No More Pretending
by anxioussquirrel
Summary: Remember "Let's Play Pretend" and how it left you with questions when it ended? Well, here's the long awaited sequel! What's the deal with Rachel and Kurt's past? What happens after that knock on Blaine's door? What does the future hold for our trio? Will they ever have their happy ending? Story complete in 17 chapters 3 drabbles, posting 3-4 times a week.
1. Character promo 1: Blaine

**_No More Pretending_** - the long awaited **sequel** to _Let's Play Pretend_ - is coming soon! I really recommend re-reading the last few chapters of _LPP _(or, you know, the whole thing, if you're so inclined) before diving in - it really makes reading the next part of their journey much better :)

The drabble below is the first of three character promos - one for each of the _LPP _trio - that show little glimpses into their headspace a bit before the plot of _NMP_ starts. It's summer after Blaine's graduation, 15 months after the bridge.

The next two drabbles will be posted on Saturday and Monday, and then on **Tuesday, September 17**, the story proper starts. It's **complete in 17 chapters/50 000 words**, and will be updated **3-4 times a week** for a month.

There are also amazing promo posters, already up and coming with the next drabbles, and each chapter will have accompanying art, just like _LPP_. Sadly, FF doesn't allow graphics or links, so if you want to see it, go to my livejournal or scarvesandcoffee profile (I'm anxioussquirrel at both), or search "fic: let's play pretend" tag on tumblr. My and my artist's tumblr blogs have all the links, too - visit us at anxioussquirrel or headbandxbowties.

Okay, enough rambling, let's start the story :)

* * *

**BLAINE**

_August 31_

The phrase _walk of shame_ is painfully accurate, Blaine decides as he sneaks into his dorm room at eight a.m. His clothes are wrinkled and stained with an unknown liquid, his hair is in disarray, his eyes red and stinging from smoke and lack of sleep.

"Dude, you look like crap," Blaine's roommate says as he looks up from his laptop.

So much for being sneaky. Blaine quietly closes the door behind himself.

"Gee, thanks." His voice is rough this morning, strained, and he'd rather not remember why, apart from the karaoke last night.

Dropping his bag on the bed, he grabs a towel and his shower caddy. He has to make himself presentable for work, and fast. He'd rather cancel the lesson, the mere thought of little Jessica enthusiastically murdering her piano assignments for an hour makes his splitting headache worse, but he's been irresponsible enough in the last 24 hours. Calling in sick because he has a hangover from hell would be the typical student thing to do, and Blaine is determined to build up his reputation as a piano and guitar tutor rather than ruin it so early in the school year. He might really need the money one day.

The hot water is a blessing on his strained muscles, even if it stings his back, little half-moon cuts and long shallow scratches down his side fresh enough to burn like fire. He reaches to wash them thoroughly, then slides his soapy hand lower, towards another source of discomfort. Gentle clean-up of the still tender flesh brings back a slew of pictures and memories that only serve to turn his already unsettled stomach.

Why did he think this was a good idea?

Sure, it was fun while it lasted, in the heat of the moment. It made the feeling of being lonely even among his new friends fade for a bit, made him really feel something for a few hours. Momentary closeness, a bit of affection, frantic kisses and touches fueled by alcohol – it was nice. The sex was hot, if slightly too rough for Blaine's liking. And falling asleep with another person, sated and exhausted, seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

But in the morning, it left him feeling worse than ever.

It wasn't Blaine's first hook-up since he arrived in New York; there have been several before. Nor was it his first _drunken_ hook-up – there was always someone to buy alcohol in the student-frequented bars.

It wasn't even his first _gay_ hook-up. (It was his second, if he wanted to be precise, though the first one didn't go quite that far.)

But this particular act–

Up until last night, _this_ was Kurt's thing. No one else's.

Did he think that if he let someone else inside, they would make him feel the way Kurt did? That he'd manage to somehow replace Kurt's touches, or the way Kurt made loveto him, gently, reverently, like Blaine was the most precious thing in the whole universe?

Why would he _want_ to replace it?

_Because I need to move on. He's gone. He won't ever be back._

The answer swirls through Blaine's head, his thoughts clearer now, as if the water washed away the fog from his brain as well as the sweat from his body. The words make sense, rationally, familiar for the number of times he'd told himself so since March. But however true they may be, this is not the way. Spending nights with strangers just because he's fleetingly attracted to them won't make being in New York without Kurt any less painful. It will only make him numb and bitter.

He can't force Kurt out of his heart, and he can't even imagine loving anyone else until he does. Without some kind of closure. And what closure can he have? The creased, tear-stained letter – note really – from a year ago is still the only thing he's gotten from Kurt since he disappeared with Rachel, and after all this time, Blaine really doubts there will ever be anything else. For all he knows, they may really be dead by now. And even if they aren't, Kurt has surely forgotten about him.

So why can't Blaine move on? Find someone else to make him feel whole again?

With a quick flick of his wrist, he turns the water to icy cold and grinds his teeth against the startled shout that tries to escape his throat.

He will survive. He's going to start his classes at Tisch in a few days. He'll focus on that, and his work, and new friends, and using his time in college to the fullest in ways other than drinking and sleeping around.

And if time indeed heals, one day he'll find himself ready to love again.

But now…

Now he needs coffee, actually.

* * *

_Blaine's theme song - listen to it, it's worth it - is _**All I Want** _by **Kodaline**_


	2. Character promo 2: Rachel

**RACHEL**

_August 31_

Rachel never thought she'd live to be eighteen.

It wasn't supposed to happen. And now that she actually reached this milestone, she has no idea what to do with it. She shouldn't be here, whole and unharmed and free to have a life at last, to make her own choices without fear or limitations. She shouldn't be able to walk the streets of New York and see future before her – years, probably decades to fill with dreams and plans and _life_. She'd never been prepared for that.

It took weeks before the thought alone stopped giving her panic attacks.

Walking the busy streets in the heat of late summer, she forces herself to look around and see opportunities, not threats. The anonymity of the crowd where she can hide if needed. The dozens of theaters just waiting for her audition. The men looking at her with interest, with smiles, men that she'd be allowed to date now, if she wanted to.

It's still overwhelming. She has no idea where to start figuring out her life, and there's no one to do that for her, no adult to tell her what to do and help out when she fails. It's scary and messy, but it's inescapable.

She's on her own.

It doesn't help that Kurt is no longer hers, either. Oh, he's still here, living with her, loving her – he probably always will, just like she won't ever be able to stop loving him – but he's not _hers_. They haven't been together for over a year now; no touching, no kissing, none of the closeness that had been expected of them for so long that it had become second nature. They hadn't even slept in the same bed for months. There was no formal talk, no breaking up, if something like that can even exist in their particular reality, but she knows. They both know.

Kurt loves someone else; he's loved him patiently and stubbornly since well before they left Ohio. He doesn't need her anymore, doesn't want the weird safety net they've woven for themselves since they were nine and first became family. And it feels so terribly lonely with all this empty space around her, after all those years when they were the two halves of a whole, mismatched and forced together, but somehow making it work anyway.

Not dying changed everything. Ironically, it killed something in Rachel even as it brought Kurt to life.

* * *

**Rachel's theme song – **_Teen Idle _by Marina and The Diamonds


	3. Character promo 3: Kurt

**KURT**

_August 31_

They really shouldn't affect him so much, all those little things that made today so annoying.

The morning fight with Rachel about money. Spilt milk at the coffee shop that he slid on, dropping the cup of hot mocha he'd just made. The homeless man who called him a faggot and spat on him when Kurt reached out to help him pick up his dropped crutch.

These were all just stupid little incidents. He should shrug them off. They shouldn't _matter_.

And yet he's sitting on the subway on his way home slumped and miserable, feeling like there's no more fight in him.

It's just one of these days.

They don't happen often. Normally, he operates on the sheer force of momentum and determination, head held high and any hardships accepted as part of the deal. He can't afford doubts. And he doesn't really have many.

He's never regretted not dying that night on the bridge over a year ago. Or finally coming to New York. He appreciates being alive, being _here_ and having a place to live and jobs and enough money to feed himself and Rachel on most days. He can see how far they've come, how much they've achieved and how very lucky they are. He really can.

It's just, sometimes it's hard. He feels different, alienated by what they've been through, experiences he can't talk about to anyone. Sometimes he raises his head in the daily grind and realizes that he's lonely and exhausted and so far away from anything that feels safe and familiar. Sometimes, like today, little things are enough to make it all feel like too much.

He just wants to catch a break.

He came here following both a dream and his heart. There had always been one face featured prominently in his dreams when he thought of New York. But here, everyday life is nothing like a dream. It's hard work and too little time for sleep, let alone anything else. It's not enough energy or courage to do what he'd promised himself to do as soon as he had a chance.

Sometimes those dreams feel so unrealistic, just something shiny and perfect to escape into, untainted by disappointment or rejection, unmarred by reality.

And life is not a dream.

* * *

**Kurt's theme song **– _Wonderful World_ by James Morrison


	4. Chapter 1: Tell him

**NO MORE PRETENDING (sequel to Let's Play Pretend)**

**Creators:** **anxioussquirrel** (words) & **headbandxbowties** (art and video)

**Betas/Test readers:** **nachochang**, **tchrgleek**, **controlofwhatido** – **THANK YOU!**

**Rating:** R

**Warnings:** The following things happen or are discussed in this fic: cult-like communities, arranged marriages, unplanned pregnancies, abortion, child abandonment, pseudo-incest, minor character death, slut shaming, suicide ideation.

**Status:** complete in 50 000 words/17 chapters

**Posting:** 3-4 times a week, on tumblr, livejournal, scarves&coffee and .

**Summary: **_This is a sequel – it won't make much sense without reading _Let's Play Pretend_ first._

_But if you did read it, you probably had loads of questions afterwards: __What's the deal with Rachel and Kurt's past? What happens after that knock on Blaine's door? What does the future hold for our trio? Will they ever have their happy ending? _

_This story answers all of them._

* * *

**CHAPTER 1: Tell him**

_Damn rain, damn traffic, damn fucking door._

It's dark and gloomy, the weather a clear reminder of how close it is to November, and Kurt is cursing under his breath as he pushes the resistant apartment door open with his shoulder. Between his two jobs at the bakery and coffeeshop, it's been a long, busy day to end a long, busy week, and getting soaked by the sudden downpour on his way back only adds to the heavy slump of his shoulders. The prospect of making dinner is too much to even consider tonight. Surely he can get away with just going to bed early – he'll eat a proper breakfast tomorrow instead, since his shift doesn't start until noon, a rare luxury.

Except... dinner is taken care of already, the smell of homemade mac and cheese permeating the apartment, and Kurt's stomach rumbles loudly.

"God, I love you, Rach." He announces loudly to the empty room and she emerges from behind the curtain separating her bedroom space from the rest of the loft.

"Oh good, because I've burned myself _again _putting it in the oven, so you better appreciate the effort. Come on, wash up and change, dinner in five."

They don't talk much while eating, nothing more than the perfunctory "How was your day?", and it feels good not to be obligated to interact coherently and politely. Kurt can just decompress, and he can already feel the stress and fatigue slide off his tense shoulders.

It isn't until Rachel brings him a cup of hot tea after dinner, strong and sweet the way he likes it, that Kurt's suspicions flare.

"Okay, Rach, spill. What have you done this time? You never go to so much trouble to mellow me out unless there's a reason. Did you go on a shopping spree again? Because I honestly don't have any more hours in my week to pick up additional shifts, you know that."

Her pout might be convincing if Kurt didn't already know her every trick. As it is, he just arches his eyebrow and waits until she huffs and shrugs.

"No, I was good. I don't understand why you always assume the worst, as if I couldn't be nice and caring just because." Kurt waits unmoved. "Fine, okay. I wanted you relaxed for an intervention. Of sorts."

"An intervention." Okay, that's the last thing he expected. Usually it's he who has to intervene, whether it's to curb Rachel's spending habits or pull her out of despair after another failed audition. Eyebrows drawn, he tries to think of anything intervention-worthy in his life, but he keeps coming up empty.

Rachel flashes her sweetest smile. "It's nothing bad, I promise. Just sit back and relax, I want you to listen to something – just listen. Carefully." She crosses the living room to the old CD player they rescued from a dumpster, and presses a button.

Kurt doesn't recognize the song at first, but once the vocal comes in, he identifies the singer immediately. Celine Dion, and it's that song with Barbra, isn't it? He's heard it before, but never paid much attention, why would Rachel–

_Tell him  
Tell him that the sun and moon  
Rise in his eyes  
Reach out to him_

_Ah._

As the song builds, it becomes increasingly obvious what the _intervention _is about, and at least Rachel has the decency to look sheepish, even though the stubborn jut of her chin kind of defies the purpose of her meek expression. Kurt waits until the end of the song, face forcefully neutral because _no_, it _doesn't_ affect him, not at all.

"Rach, I appreciate–"

"No, Kurt, you don't get to tell me to leave it alone." Her face is set, her small fists clenched. She looks terrifyingly determined. "A _year_. This whole year on the run I've heard you talk about him, dream about him, plan what you will do once we're in New York and safe. How you will reconnect with the boy you love. You chose this city for him. And now what? We've been here for five months, Kurt. _Five_. _Months_. And you haven't done a thing about it except obsess over his every tweet and Facebook update."

"I've been–"

"Yes, I know. You've been waiting for him to get to New York, and giving him time to adapt to new circumstances, and making sure he's still single, and waiting for the right moment... I've heard it all, remember? But baby, you can't keep doing this to yourself. You've been crying in your sleep again, do you know that? It's eating you up inside, don't you think I can't see it. Either find a way back into his life, or forget about him. The longer you wait, the harder it's going to be, and I know you're scared, but you've got to make a decision, Kurt. It's time."

He hates to admit it, but she's right. Terribly, painfully right.

"What if he doesn't want me back anymore? What if we hurt him too deeply?" His voice is soft and shaky, but letting out the thoughts that have been torturing him for months now feels freeing.

Rachel takes his hand, a picture of compassion. Sometimes, in the stressful chaos of their new lives, he forgets how caring and understanding she can be.

"Are you ready to let him go?"

"No." The answer is quick, firm, so obvious. "No, I just need to... find the right way."

"Kurt. No way will ever feel entirely right to you. I know you, you'll analyze and obsess, and never do anything about it."

Damn, she's right. Why is she right?

"Just... go now. Don't think, don't plan, just knock on his door. Take that first step."

Panic shoots up like a bird, trapped and fluttering deep in his chest. "_Now_? No, no way, it's late–"

"Eight o'clock on a Friday night isn't that late, Kurt."

"I'm tired and I look terrible, I need a haircut and something decent to wear, and–"

"Kurt."

"No."

"Just go. Find out, one way or another. Stop keeping your whole life on hold. Go now."

He goes.

* * *

It's a long way from Bushwick to the NYU campus, and more than enough time to come up with a reason to turn around and go back home. Kurt keeps playing with the thought on the way, looking around for signs that he shouldn't go through with Rachel's idea – not that he believes in signs, not really, but when you're anxious enough, every excuse will do.

But apparently the world is voting _yes_ on him doing this crazy, unplanned thing tonight. The train arrives almost as soon as he enters the subway station, and takes him swiftly towards his destination with no unplanned interruptions. He doesn't fall asleep or get mugged on the way, and manages to get off at the right station. No pigeon or dog or careless pedestrian creates a fashion emergency, no cab runs him over, and sooner than he's ready, Kurt is standing in front of the Tisch dorm building where he knows Blaine lives now.

He's never been here before, only knows the address thanks to the pictures Blaine has been posting and his own internet research. He needs to find the rest on his own. There's always the possibility he won't be able to learn which room is Blaine's, right? Or that somebody will stop him from going in because he isn't a student. Or, if everything else fails, Blaine may not be in – it's Friday night, after all. He's probably out with friends. It would be a dick move from the universe to let him come all the way here only to _not_ meet Blaine, but at this point Kurt would take that as a blessing. He hasn't been so scared since that night, almost a year and a half ago, when they were desperately trying to get as far away from Lima as possible without leaving a trail. And he was scared for their lives back then.

Now, it feels like the stakes are just as high.

All that time, the memories and dreams of Blaine have been Kurt's happy place – often the only one as he and Rachel struggled through the misery of those first months on their own. They've been his escape from a reality that seemed hopeless, and his motivation to keep fighting.

He's terrified to learn how far his visions of the happy reunion are from reality. Because there's no way Blaine will just fall into his arms and tell him he's been looking for him forever. Not after the hell their alleged deaths must have been for him.

And if Blaine looks him in the eye and tells him he doesn't want to know him anymore after all this time – well, there goes Kurt's anchor, the one thing that has literally kept him going, made him stubbornly believe that it's all worth it because in the end, he'll have love.

Yes, he still loves this boy.

Will Blaine be able to love him back once he meets the _real_ Kurt? Will he want to? Or is it too late for them?

He enters the building with his knees weak and his heart in a crazy gallop.

* * *

The girl at the reception is too busy flirting with a trio of hunky college guys to pay him any attention, and it's only after Kurt's quiet _Excuse me_ that she looks at him at all.

"Oh, hello there. What can I do for you, sweetheart?" Her smile is big and very white, her right eyebrow pierced. Around them, students rush in and out of the building, laughing and relaxed.

"Hi. I... I'm looking for my friend, his name is Blaine Anderson? But I don't know his room number." This should be the moment where she tells him that she can't help him then, right?

"Okay, just let me check." A few seconds of rapid tapping on the laptop in front of her and then she's pushing a clipboard towards him. "Room 541, fifth floor. Just sign in here and you're golden." With a last blinding smile she turns back to the boys. Kurt is left to scrawl a shaky _K. Hummel_ at the bottom of the visitor's log before walking toward the elevators on unsteady legs.

He doesn't faint or get trampled by galloping students, and the elevator works seamlessly, not a chance of fatal accident in sight, or even a nice little delay while he's stuck between the floors. He's quickly running out of things that could stand between him and the final, irreversible decision to knock on that door – to take that one step into the unknown, and hope it isn't a bottomless abyss he's stepping into.

So when the door is finally right in front of him, he doesn't let himself stop and think. If he did, he would most likely run away. Maybe after spending an hour or two hesitating. So he doesn't – he's knocking as soon as he's close enough to reach, the sound too loud in the empty hallway, and he barely has time to start panicking before the door opens.

And there he is.

Looking older, more mature than when Kurt last saw him, more solemn somehow... and that's about all he's able to notice before Blaine's eyes widen, and then the door is slammed closed.

* * *

Oh. _Oh_.

So that's it? Not even a word, nothing? Just the door between them, saying it all.

Kurt feels numb. Numb and cold and his eyes hurt. The music that flowed out when Blaine opened the door was from _Wicked_. The carpet under Kurt's feet is dark grey and dirty. Outside, New York traffic is humming and clanking as it always does.

He doesn't know what to do now. All of his imagined scenarios, even the most terrible ones, included words. Clear, definite words, or hopeful, careful words, or happy – anything. But not this. He doesn't know what to do with this.

No, he knows. He needs to go. He just needs to–

A click of the door, a sharp intake of breath against the familiar music in the background.

"_Kurt_."

* * *

**Chapter song: **_Tell Him _– Celine Dion and Barbra Streisand

The next chapter will be posted on** Thursday 19 September.**


	5. Chapter 2: Reunited

**Chapter 2: Reunited**

"Please tell me you're not a hallucination."

Blaine's face is stunned, his eyes huge and staring. Everything seems soft and fuzzy around the edges and it takes Kurt a second to realize that it's because his own eyes are wet, overfilling. He tries to laugh, but it comes out choked.

"I'm not a hallucination."

A hand on his shoulder – gentle, hesitant, and then he's enveloped in a hug, wrapped up tight in the arms he thought about every night when a warm bed and a roof over their heads was too much to hope for. It feels like the safest place in the world, like he's anchored at last after floating aimlessly for so many dark months.

Blaine is warm and solid against him, and he smells like a different cologne now but he still feels like _home_. His head is on Kurt's shoulder and wow, he's taller than Blaine now, has it really been that long? He knows he's been through a few growth spurts, of course, his own limited wardrobe made it hard to miss, but this is the first time it really computes on a deeper, more practical level. They parted as boys; they're adults now. They've _both_ grown and changed – separately, in different ways.

There are voices coming from down the corridor, young and bright. Someone whistles at them and Kurt startles into reality: they are still holding onto each other in the doorway.

"Maybe we should get inside."

Blaine pulls away as if waking from a dream – blinking slowly, long lashes over his beautiful eyes, but then the spell breaks and he takes Kurt's hand and steps back into the room, the door shutting behind them, and there they are. In Blaine's room, alone, taking each other in with wide, stunned eyes.

Kurt blinks away unwanted tears.

"Hey."

"Hey. God, you're alive." Blaine's voice is full of wonder.

"You didn't get my letter?" There's a moment of panic because _what if_? It was just a regular letter, what if it didn't get there? What if it got lost in the mail? These things happen, he didn't even think… Did Blaine have to live a year and a half grieving their deaths?

"No, I did. But it was so long ago, Kurt. Anything could have happened, I didn't know... I thought I'd never see you again."

His voice breaks and it aches because Kurt _knew _they had hurt him, rationally he knew and the torment of imagining what Blaine had to be going through was what pushed him into taking the risk, sending that one and only note. He's lost count of how many times he had to stop himself from contacting Blaine again while they were still running.

But knowing was one thing. Actually seeingthesigns of too much worry and too little smile in Blaine's eyes and the lines of his face is what really drives it home.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to write to you again, but it was too risky, even that one letter was too much. Rachel threw such a fit when she learned, and she was right but–"

Blaine shakes his head and smiles, the shadow of all those months disappearing as quickly as it came. "Where's Rachel? She didn't come with you?"

"No, she wanted me to see you alone first. She's home now."

"Home?"

"Oh, Bushwick. We live in Bushwick."

Blaine's eyes grow wider. "As in, here in New York? _Kurt_... you _live_ in New York? When did you move here?"

_Uh-oh_.

"Um. In June."

Blaine shakes his head, confused. "You... you've been here since June and you only found me now?"

Long ago, Kurt promised himself a few things. One of them was that he'd find his way back to Blaine if it killed him, if only to apologize. Another was that when he did, he would never, _ever_ lie to him or keep secrets again.

"I– No. I've known since you moved here. I've watched your social media, I just– I didn't–"

He can't look Blaine in the eye, but the incredulity and hurt in Blaine's voice rings loud and clear.

"Wait, so you could have come here three months ago, when I was so lonely and everything hurt because last time I'd been in New York it was with you, and _you just didn't bother?_"

Kurt wants to disappear. He's been selfish. He's been so focused on_ his_ fear and _his _worry and _his _uncertainty that he lost sight of what Blaine might feel. Suddenly shaky, he curls into himself, sitting down on the nearest available surface, which turns out to be an edge of a neatly made bed. Eyes set down, he whispers, "I'm sorry."

There are a few heartbeats of silence that feel like an age, and then a warm hand touches his. Blaine is kneeling in front of him, his expression apologetic even though his voice is still breaking.

"No, _I_ am sorry. I'm sure you had your reasons, I have no right to expect anything from you."

"I was just... afraid." Kurt admits, his eyes stinging again. He won't cry, he _won't_, he doesn't cry anymore. "I wanted to contact you every day, and every day I told myself, _not yet_ because..."

"Because?"

"Because I wasn't sure you wanted to have anything to do with me, with us, after what we'd done. And it would be too much to actually know that you didn't."

"Kurt, look at me." Blaine's voice is soft, and so is his face, soft and sad, but so very earnest. "I really, really do. I won't say it didn't hurt, because it was the hardest, most painful thing I've ever lived through, but I've never stopped hoping I'd get to see you again. Well, at least after I knew you didn't... didn't die. And sure, I'd like to know what happened and why, but even if you never tell me, I want you back in my life. I'm not going to let you disappear again."

"Oh, I will tell you, I promise." It's so much easier to breathe already, the weight of fear that's been pressing heavily on Kurt's chest for months gone, and he's just so _grateful_. "We'll tell you the whole story if you let us. It's a long one, though, much too long for just one evening, so maybe another day? Or _days_, really, I think, this will take _hours_. But I want you to know us, Blaine – really know us, now that we can finally share all of this."

"I'd love that." Blaine's smile is radiant, and quite possibly Kurt's favorite thing in the whole universe.

"So let's start with..." Kurt reaches out with his right hand and Blaine takes it, arching his eyebrows. "Hi, my name is Kurt Hummel and I'm eighteen. I live in Bushwick with Rachel Berry, who is a royal pain in the butt and my step-sister, although in the eyes of the law we're not really related. Oh, and I'm gay."

Blaine just takes him in for a moment, understanding blooming in his wide, surprised eyes, and then squeezes Kurt's hand tighter.

"Hi, Kurt. It's nice to meet you."

* * *

"So what have you two been up to since you arrived in New York?"

They are both calmer now, the adrenaline and emotions are down and it's easier to actually talk. They've settled more comfortably – Kurt cross-legged on the bed with his coat and shoes off, Blaine in a computer chair opposite him – and neither of them can stop staring at the other. Kurt smiles at the genuine curiosity in Blaine's voice.

"Well, we spent some time settling in – making the apartment we found habitable, getting documents we needed for work. We changed our names back to what they were before, too."

"You mean–"

Kurt shrugs. "Kurt Hummel. Rachel Berry. Hummelberry. That's what our parents changed them to after they... um. Committed to each other. To symbolize the joining of families. We undid it now, since we wanted to be separate people again."

"Won't your parents know you did that? Do they even know you're–" Blaine pauses and bites his lip. "No, I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry."

Kurt shakes his head. "It's okay, you can ask whatever you want. No, we didn't contact them so they don't know we're alive, and we're going to keep it that way for now. Getting to our records was a risk – there might be people looking for us since there were no bodies – but we really needed SSN cards, at least, and IDs. We decided that getting our school transcripts was too dangerous, though. McKinley was bound to alert our parents that someone wanted to pull our records when we're presumed dead. So no high school diplomas for us, even though we wanted to go back and graduate." He pauses and scowls. "Well, at least _I_ wanted. Rachel decided to put her education on hold and pursue an acting career instead."

Blaine arches his eyebrows, surprised. "Really? That's a bold move. How is it going?"

Kurt sighs. "A whole lot of auditions, one callback, no roles. She tries to be tough, but frankly, it turns out there are a lot of hopeful, talented actresses in this city. It's not exactly what she hoped for."

"Is it what _you_ hoped for? New York?" Blaine's smile is like a ray of sunshine. Kurt kind of wants to curl up in its warmth and bask.

"If you mean freedom to be myself and have my own plans and dreams, then yes. If you mean working my ass off at two, sometimes three jobs, and then sewing at night, just to be able to support us, then... I expected it. It's draining sometimes, but that's fine. I'm in New York, I will earn my place here."

"Doesn't Rachel work?"

"Not right now, no." Kurt shrugs at Blaine's frown. "I made her a promise once, when life on the run became too much for her and she was ready to give up. I promised her that if we moved to New York, I would give her a year to let her pursue her dreams, and I'll support us by myself. I'm keeping that promise. We manage, and once she gets a role, even just a small one, it should get easier."

Frankly, they _barely_ manage. Life in New York isn't cheap – rent and bills and MetroCards, sometimes buying the most basic groceries is a stretch. But he can handle it. He's young, he's strong and he's living in his dream city. He can handle _anything_. And now there's Blaine, too. Why would he ever complain?

"And you live in Bushwick." Blaine shakes his head, still incredulous, and Kurt laughs, a sudden, bright explosion of joy.

"And we live in Bushwick, yes. We rent a whole loft at a ridiculously low price. I mean, no wonder really, it was a mess when we moved in, completely bare and half-devastated. We fixed it up, furnished it over the months with flee market finds and such." Actually, some of it was plain dumpster diving, but he's too embarrassed to say it out loud, so he just shrugs. "It's not ideal – it still needs a lot of paint, the locks could probably be broken by a determined child and the drafts are more noticeable the colder it gets, but it's home. You'll just have to imagine the future stylishness of it when you–" Kurt bites his tongue. He's getting ahead of himself as usual. "Um. I mean, if you ever decide to visit us."

"I'd love to!" Blaine _beams_ at him, as if he was just offered a visit at a palace. "I mean, if you want me to? You're not just dropping by to tell me you're here, are you? I'll be able to see you regularly now, right?"

Kurt just nods, momentarily overwhelmed with this prospect.

They are quiet for a bit, just grinning at each other until Kurt yawns widely, adrenaline finally giving way to exhaustion. He laughs, self-conscious.

"Sorry, it was a long day. Anyway, how's your brother? I saw he had an accident."

Blaine rolls his eyes fondly. "He's fine, just some bruised ribs and a sprained ankle, but he should never be allowed near horses again. That idiot put _expert horse-riding_ in his resume when the only time he sat on a horse was a pony once when he was a kid. He says every actor does that, but– Oh, hey, so you _really_ read my updates." He grins.

Kurt feels himself blush. "Well I looked you up one day when I was in a library doing research. It's not my fault your Facebook is pretty much public."

"Just my Facebook?" Blaine teases with a smile, and Kurt sticks out his tongue at him, suddenly feeling young and silly, an almost forgotten state.

"Okay, your twitter, too. But I only look when I can get access to a computer. I'm not a stalker."

"I bet all stalkers say that." Blaine chuckles and Kurt joins him before another yawn interrupts. It's really getting out of control. He stretches and sighs.

"Sorry. I should probably go, it's getting late."

"Do you have to? It's barely ten." Blaine asks, his tone pleading. Kurt really can't get himself to tell him that he's been up since four thirty today, working in the bakery and then the coffee house. Or that it will take him over an hour to get home where he still has to finish dyeing the rainbow tutu someone ordered from him before he can even think about sleep. "Can I get you some coffee? We could catch up some more before you go. I really want to know what happened with the two of you in the last year and a half."

Kurt hesitates for a moment before nodding. He's going to tell Blaine all of it anyway. He can as well start with that, tonight.

"Okay. But I have to leave in an hour. I work tomorrow." And the next day, and the next. He hasn't had a free day in weeks.

"I swear I won't keep you longer than eleven. Do you still take your coffee like you used to?" Blaine is bouncing a little in his chair, excited. Kurt can't help but smile.

"Anything with caffeine is fine." Really, he survived months of the cheapest instant slush before he started at Starbucks, and the vile stuff at truck stops and in motels before that. He had even gone weeks without coffee at all. He can stomach anything.

"Girls down the hall have a latte machine, just give me a few minutes and I'll be back."

Before Kurt has time to protest and tell him not to go to so much trouble, Blaine has already grabbed a clean cup from a shelf and swept out the door.

Kurt's alone, so he takes his time to actually flail a little because, well, _Blaine_. Then he settles comfortably against the headboard to wait – not lying down, because that would be creepy and way too forward, just... leaning a bit against the big fluffy pillows that feel softer than anything Kurt remembers. It's been a long day and his body is heavy with exhaustion. It's so good to just stretch hi legs out a bit, just for a minute, just... _just–_

* * *

xXxXx

_Kurt's asleep when Blaine returns to the room, passed out half-upright on Blaine's bed, a picture that makes something in Blaine's chest flutter and expand. He puts the cup of coffee on his desk and just looks, takes his time watching without worry about being creepy. _

_The Kurt that Blaine remembers was all soft features and elaborate clothes that pulled focus. Gorgeous, but clearly so very young. The boy in front of Blaine now is taller and more muscular, his frame well-defined in the jeans and simple black henley he's wearing. His face is thinner, more angular like the rest of him, and he's just so damn _handsome_. An irresistible man, not just a beautiful boy anymore._

_He looks tired, too, now that Blaine looks carefully – too pale, with dark circles around his eyes, and Blaine can't bring himself to wake him up. He sits down and sips the latte he brought, and watches, just watches. There's a void in him somewhere, a constantly aching space where all of their time together this past year and a half should have been, and now it feels like it may begin to heal at last. Watching Kurt sleep is like a balm on the frayed, raw nerves of that wound._

_But as time ticks away and Kurt shows no signs of waking up – he only stirs once to settle more comfortably against Blaine's pillows – the responsible part of Blaine's brain begins to wonder what to do. Kurt said he has to work in the morning, and Blaine has no idea how early he needs to be there, or where exactly, or anything, really. But rousing Kurt from his peaceful sleep and sending him away into the cold, rainy night seems cruel._

_A beep from Kurt's coat pocket interrupts Blaine's conflicted thoughts and since Kurt doesn't react at all, Blaine reaches for the phone after a moment of hesitation. It's a simple, cheap model, and it's alight with an incoming message, with Rachel's name on it. Feeling slightly guilty, Blaine opens it._

_**Rachel: **_How is it going? Are you coming home soon?

_With one more glance at Kurt, Blaine makes a decision._

_**Kurt: **_Hey Rachel, it's Blaine. Kurt fell asleep, should I wake him up and send him home?

_The answer comes within seconds._

_**Rachel: **_Blaine! Hi! :DDD

_It makes Blaine grin widely – he can almost _hear _Rachel through this text, and instantly he misses her even more, her bubbly, bouncy personality and her enthusiastic hugs. The next text comes a moment later._

_**Rachel: **_No, let him sleep if you can, he's exhausted and he doesn't have work until noon tomorrow. (What have you two been doing, huh? ;D)

_He smiles and taps out the reply._

_**Kurt: **_He can sleep here, there's enough room. (And we've been talking, I don't know what you're implying :P) Can't wait to see you again! Goodnight!

_She replies with a smiley and a goodnight, and that's it. _

_Kurt is officially staying the night. _

_Blaine's roommate is luckily away for a week due to yet another girlfriend emergency back at home, so sleeping arrangements are not a problem. Blaine pulls out a spare blanket and covers Kurt gently, barely refraining from placing a tender kiss on his forehead, then sits down at his desk to start on an essay he needs to get done this weekend. But his focus is predictably shaky. He spends more time looking at Kurt than his computer screen, and eventually he decides it just won't happen. After a quick trip to the bathroom to brush his teeth and change into his PJs, Blaine turns off the lights and slides under the covers in his roommate's bed._

_Sleep doesn't come easily, though. Every time he manages to drift off for a moment, he wakes up with a start, his heart pounding, certain that he dreamed this whole evening, that it can't be true. And every time, Kurt's sleeping form barely a few feet from him shocks him anew, waking up the happy butterflies in his stomach and staving off sleep again._

_Finally, well before the night sky begins to blush with the first light of dawn, Blaine gives up on sleep entirely. He just lies there, watching the dark outline of the boy he's loved for so long, even when there was barely any hope left. He watches, and thinks, and feels everything at once, and then, slowly, as light fills the room, he processes all the emotions separately, one by one, lets himself feel them, open and accepting and finally ready._

_Because this is just the beginning. He's waited so long, and now the waiting is done. The miracle has happened, Kurt's here. They have another chance._

_Now what?_

xXxXx

* * *

Kurt wakes up groggy and disoriented. His alarm isn't blaring, but Rachel isn't singing, either, as she tends to do on those days when he can sleep a little longer and wake up to her voice and the smell of coffee. Light is streaming into the room, filtering pink through his eyelids, and Kurt sits up quickly, suddenly panicked. There's never bright light like this in his room, not with the window painted over.

Of course, this isn't his room. The moment Kurt opens his eyes, the events of last night – god, it was _last night_, he fell asleep! – rush back, making his heart race in an anxious staccato. The gasp of shock quickly dies on his lips though because the first thing he sees is Blaine's smile.

Blaine is sitting in his desk chair again and Kurt has a weird sense of déjà vu for a second before he notices the differences in Blaine's clothing. Calmer now, but increasingly embarrassed, he smiles and clears his throat.

"I hope you didn't have to sleep in that chair because of me? It doesn't look very comfortable." He can already feel himself blush. Nice way to enter someone's life after a long time – come and crash on their bed in the middle of a conversation.

But Blaine laughs brightly. "No, don't worry. My roommate's not here right now. I slept in his bed."

"Why didn't you wake me? What time is it, anyway?"

Judging by the light and how he feels, it's late. Oh shit. Rachel must be worried sick. Kurt looks around for his coat; his phone must have been ringing half the night, how did he not hear it? Is the battery dead again?

Just then, Blaine passes him the device.

"It's barely after seven, and Rachel said I should let you sleep, so I did."

Kurt's eyes widen. "I slept for nine hours?" He doesn't remember when he last had a chance to get more than six hours of sleep. Not since they left home, that's for certain. And six is a luxury.

Then the rest of Blaine's words register and his jaw drops. "You spoke to Rachel?"

Blaine blushes and dips his head a little. "No, she texted and– I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have, but you slept through it and I wasn't sure what to do, so I took your phone out. I saw her name, so... I read it and texted her back. She seems to believe you fell asleep because we _um_, did something last night." Blaine's blush deepens even as he grins, and Kurt quickly scrolls through their exchange from last night. He shakes his head.

"Of course she would. God, I'm so sorry, Blaine. For coming here unannounced, and passing out like this, and for her assumptions and just… I'm sorry. It wasn't at all how I planned our reunion. There was supposed to be flowers and some grand thoughtful gesture as an apology, and giving you time to get used to the idea that we're here, and instead... this. I'm sorry."

He disentangles himself from the plushy red blanket that kept him so deliciously warm all night, but before he can stand up and find an excuse to flee, Blaine takes his hand.

"Please don't be sorry. You're here. Nothing could be better than this. And I got to open my eyes and _see_ that it wasn't just a dream, which was really great because I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have believed it otherwise. As for Rachel's assumptions... well, it's Rachel, right?" They both chuckle fondly at this, sharing an understanding look, before Blaine's face grows more serious, his hand tightening around Kurt's before letting go. "And the last time she saw us together it would have been a fair assumption, wouldn't it?"

Now it's Kurt's time to blush and look down at his knees. "Well, yeah, but–" Oh, he's so not ready for this conversation.

"Kurt, please look at me?"

Looking into Blaine's eyes right now is not easy, especially when they're intent like this – and so sad. Here it comes, then. It's fine, it's fine, it will be fine–

"Kurt, I've been thinking and... I know what we were before, and it made me really happy to be with you, but–"

Kurt steels himself for the blow. What will it be? A girlfriend? Mistakes of youth? Teenage experiments? He'd heard all variations of these excuses in his nightmares.

Blaine bites his lip, clearly nervous, but determined.

"But we had virtually no contact for a year and a half. And I've missed you like _crazy_ and I've dreamed of the day I would get to see you again, but... I feel like I barely know you after all this time. So for now, can we just... spend some time together, as friends? Just, talk and catch up, get to know each other all over again because we finally _can_, and... There's no rush now, is there?"

The tightness in Kurt's throat won't go away even though he tells himself it's good, it's so much, friends. He pushes through it, his words coming out thin and choked.

"No, of course not. And you're right, it's been so long. So… friends. Just friends, and we'll talk, there's so much we need to talk about, and– _Blaine_."

He's crying – they're both crying a little, crying and sniffing and laughing through the tears because they're _here_ at last, finally here, next to each other, and then Blaine pulls him into a hug and yes, it was worth it. Every moment of struggle, every hardship, every bit of strength it took to get here.

It was worth it.

* * *

When Kurt leaves the dorms half an hour later, there's a new bounce in his step and a happy song in his heart. He had politely refused Blaine's offer of breakfast – he needs to get home and finish the neglected dyeing before going to work – but they exchanged phone numbers and e-mail addresses. He even gave Blaine their home address for good measure, and Blaine asked if he could call Kurt tonight, just to talk a little before bed and maybe set up the next time they can meet, and there will be _more_ time with Blaine, and–

Oh, life is _wonderful_.

* * *

**Chapter song: **_Lovesong _– Adele

The next chapter will be posted on** Saturday 21 September.**


	6. Chapter 3: Why?

**CHAPTER 3: Why?**

Kurt flits around the vast open space of their apartment, trying to rearrange their scarce possessions so they don't look so pitifully cheap and used. But there's no use, no matter how carefully he drapes the crocheted throw over the saggy old couch, it won't make it any more classy or comfortable. He gives up eventually, looking around with resignation. The best thing he can say about the place is that it's clean – and theirs. At least for now, it's home.

When Kurt told Blaine that he should visit them, he didn't quite expect it to happen so soon. He wanted it of course – in an abstract way. It was something nice to look forward to – once they got the place painted and better furnished, once the money wasn't quite so tight, once they could offer their guest something more than cheap black tea and half-decent coffee.

Now that Kurt actually thinks about it, he's not sure what he imagined instead. Long walks in the biting fall cold while he and Rachel told Blaine their story, shouting against the never-ending background noise of New York traffic? Crowding Blaine's tiny dorm room, with his roommate trying to study a few feet away? God knows they can't afford to sit in cozy coffeeshops for hours at a time, talking, like Kurt dreamt they would one day. Not to mention with Kurt's schedule, a trip downtown is a rare luxury.

As he takes a batch of sugar cookies out of the oven, Kurt remembers the wild swarm of butterflies that took off in his stomach when Blaine called last night. It was the first time they've ever spoken on the phone, and it felt so close and intimate to have Blaine's voice right in his ear as he lay in bed that Kurt didn't even hesitate before saying _yes _when Blaine asked if he could come see them today. By the time he realized what he'd done, it was too late to back out, no matter how unprepared he felt to show Blaine the mess of their reality.

Back in Ohio, Blaine only saw what they had allowed him to see – fantastic clothes and beautiful half-truths of their lives, their tastefully furnished bedrooms and their impeccable tastes. He saw the smiles, but not the tears, because that's what they chose to show him. Despair and hopelessness aren't sexy. Poverty isn't pretty no matter if it's caused by actual lack of money or the fact that your parents choose to donate half of what they earn to an organization that surely doesn't need it half as much as they do.

But they now agreed to let Blaine in. To tell him everything, like they never have before to anyone. Including the ugly parts – and there are a lot of them.

What if they freak Blaine out? What if he can't accept them when they are more human and so much less perfect than the kids he knew in high school?

By the time there's a knock on the door, Kurt is a nervous wreck.

* * *

Blaine doesn't seem to be freaked out in the slightest. He hugs Rachel long and tight when she opens the door, looks around curiously upon entering and comes right into the kitchen where Kurt is trying to occupy his shaking hands, wiping their solitary counter. Blaine's embrace is tight and warm and so very _real _that Kurt has trouble keeping his head on straight.

They barely reconnected two days ago, and that night (and morning) is a blur in Kurt's head – a blur of Blaine's smiles and his voice and his sparkling eyes, a few hours high on adrenaline and happiness. But now Blaine is here, at their place – and it feels different. He isn't a disconnected dream anymore – a fresh memory that feels too good to be true, or a voice in the speaker of Kurt's phone. By coming here, to their apartment, he officially stepped back into their lives, creating a space for himself in their current reality. Tomorrow, when Kurt gets up before five and stumbles into the kitchen, he will look at their ratty couch and smile, the picture of Blaine sitting here in his black cardigan over white polo shirt seared into his brain.

But first, he has to survive tonight.

He promised Blaine they would start telling him their story – and it was relatively easy to decide and plan and think about it when it was just in theory, in the undetermined future. _One day_. Now they are about to cross that bridge and it's terrifying. There's no way to put it off now – Kurt has used up all the distractions already. The coffee is made, the cookies stacked neatly on a plate, Rachel is done squealing over how grown up and handsome Blaine is and telling him about her most recent auditions. They showed him around the apartment already. Kurt considers another bathroom run, just to calm down and splash cold water on his face, but it would look like he has stomach problems, so he just sits in the overstuffed armchair and tries not to look anxious.

"Okay, enough about me," Blaine laughs, cutting short the story of his fellow acting students and their shenanigans and putting two cookies on his plate. "I am stuffing my mouth full of cookies to keep myself from interrupting, and you can tell me everything about yourselves. Or however much you want."

The silence that falls is sudden and awkward, and eventually, it's Rachel who starts, because Kurt can't find the words, paralyzed by the importance of this moment.

"Okay, we talked about it and we decided it's best if you just ask questions. We _will_ tell you everything you want to know. Some of it may not make immediate sense without a wider background, and the whole story will take a lot longer than tonight to tell properly. But throw your questions at us and we'll do our best."

The wide smile fades from Blaine's face immediately, substituted by an intense, serious look.

"Okay. Tell me _why_. Why did you go like that?"

Kurt inhales sharply. Blaine surely isn't starting with the easy questions, is he?

"Because we were supposed to get married." Rachel says it lightly, like it's nothing much more than noticing the weather. "To each other. That's why we ran. If we didn't, we would have been forced to go through with it."

Blaine's face is a picture of confusion. "What? But... you're siblings, even if not blood-related! How– What even–"

"Actually, we're not," Kurt hears himself say and oh, okay. Looks like the ball is rolling now. "Not really, not in any way but emotional."

"But... who would have forced you? You were underage." Blaine is clearly struggling to compute it all.

Rachel reaches for a cookie, answering calmly as she settles back with a plate on her knees. "Our parents. It was decided a long time ago, when we were still kids. We grew up knowing we would be husband and wife one day. You could say we were groomed for it all our lives."

She shrugs and takes a bite of the cookie, and there's a pause in the conversation then, a moment where Blaine tries to get his head around it. And that's still such a tiny fraction of it all.

Eventually, he looks between them. "I still don't understand – how could your own parents have been forcing you into an arranged marriage? And since you were kids, too? I mean, I've heard about stuff like that happening in some cults but–" Blaine blinks slowly, his mouth a perfect _O_. "Wait. It was a cult, wasn't it? You were in a _cult_?"

"Sort of." Kurt nods. "They don't like the word _cult_, though. Or _sect_. Both of these have religious connotations, and religion has nothing to do with this. They call themselves a _community_, where we grew up. Or simply _The Harbor_, among the members – short for _The Safe Harbor_. But yes, cult is close enough."

Blaine shakes his head, astounded. "So... that night, you were told you would have to get married soon, so you ran away?"

Suddenly, Kurt can't look him in the eye. "Actually... no. We–"

Rachel takes one look at him and continues. "It wasn't a sudden decision. We'd had it planned for months. Almost a year, actually. It was supposed to happen a year later, but we had to agree to have the ceremony as soon as we were both seventeen if we wanted to continue with Glee and other extracurriculars at McKinley. When we escaped, it was just a day before Kurt's seventeenth birthday."

"May 26." Blaine whispers. "So you were born on May 27." Kurt nods wordlessly.

Blaine nibbles a bit of his cookie, his eyes distant. When he looks at Kurt again, the pain is back there, more intense than ever.

"Why didn't you warn me then? If you knew you were going, why didn't you tell me so that I wouldn't have to think you were–" He swallows the last word, his eyes glimmering with tears, but he pushes on. "You must have known I would have never told anyone, you could have _trusted_ me."

"Actually–" Kurt tries to silence Rachel with a glare, knowing what she's going to say and not ready for that part to be revealed yet, but it's no use. She deliberately avoids his gaze. "The plan was... we _were_ going to die, Blaine. We _would have_ died, if everything went according to our plans. But Kurt–"

"I couldn't go through with it." If it's out in the open, he wants to say it himself. "I couldn't. So we ran instead. We'd discarded the idea before, because it was too risky and it could have gone wrong in a hundred different ways, but... somehow, here we are." He finishes lamely, glancing at Blaine – Blaine, whose jaw is set, hard, and his hands in tight fists by his sides, the plate perched precariously on his knee. Rachel reaches to put it away on the table.

Blaine's eyes are on Kurt, an intense, steady weight. His voice sounds choked when he speaks, and it settles heavy in Kurt's chest with every word.

"So you knew you were going to die and you still let me get close to you? I thought it was special, what we had, Kurt – I thought you _cared _for me. But you made me fall for you only to leave me there alone to grieve, without looking back." Blaine's eyes are full of tears by the time he's finished, the mood in the room changed drastically, and Kurt scrambles to do _something_. But there isn't much he can do, not when so much of Blaine's accusation is painfully true.

"I _did_ look back, all the time, I swear–" he tries.

But Blaine is up and reaching for his coat already, his bag slung haphazardly over his shoulder. He only looks up at Kurt once more before striding to the door.

"I need air. I'm sorry."

And with that, he's gone.

* * *

The next chapter will be posted on** Monday 23 September.**


	7. Chapter 4: Limbo

**A/N:** _This is the shortest chapter in this story, except for the epilogue. Most of the remaining chapters will be around 3000-4000 words. Just so you know :) And I promise this story is not _all_ angst!_

* * *

**CHAPTER 4: Limbo**

Monday passes as if in a thick, gray fog. Kurt drags his feet through his work day, just going through the motions. He can't afford to be inefficient, but he doesn't manage to keep his usual polite smile on his face. The right muscles just won't work, no matter how much he reminds himself that smiling employees get better tips.

He can't. Not today.

Blaine is gone. They've only just reconnected, and now he's gone.

He didn't return last night – not that Kurt had much hope that he would – and didn't call or even answer Kurt's apologytext. All day today, Kurt's phone stays quiet and blank, too, and with every passing hour the weight settles heavier on his shoulders.

This is it. This was the last of Blaine he'll ever see. And he can't even say he doesn't deserve it, because he totally does.

But it doesn't make it hurt any less.

The thought of returning home and having even a moment to think is scary, so when one of the late shift baristas calls in with a migraine, Kurt takes it as a blessing. Covering her shift puts off the inevitable for a few more hours.

By the time he gets home, it's nearly midnight and he's exhausted. Rachel is asleep, so he stumbles to his bed in the darkness and doesn't even bother to change. It's freezing, it's too much effort, and what's the point anyway?

Kurt's phone buzzes when he's already curled under the blanket, trying to spark enough warmth from the thin fabric to fall asleep. Seeing the name flashing on the screen, he answers it so fast he almost drops it in the process.

"_Blaine_."

Blaine's voice is quiet in the speaker. He sounds tired.

"Kurt, I just... I wanted to tell you that I'm still here. I'm not saying goodbye to you. But... it's hard."

"I know, I'm–"

"No, please, just let me talk for a second." Kurt swallows his apology and listens in silence as Blaine takes a shuddering breath. "It's really, really hard because– You know, I spent three months in hell before your letter came. I thought you were dead, and I knew I could have done something, prevented it somehow. Because we were so close, the closest I've ever been with anyone. I had _held_ you mere hoursbefore you died, for all I knew. And I hadn't realized. I should have realized." Blaine's voice hitches and Kurt's heart breaks at the wet inhalation, his tears falling soundlessly on his pillow. "And now you tell me that it was the plan all along, even when you... when we were... that afternoon. Even then you knew you would be _gone_ soon. Dead. Just like that."

Kurt can't breathe right, choked with the tears, afraid if he tries to speak properly, he'll burst into big, ugly sobs, so he just whispers the only thing he can offer where no excuses apply.

"It was you. I couldn't die that night because of you. So please don't think I didn't care – I couldn't jump off that bridge because I cared _too much_ about you. We're alive because I couldn't leave you, Blaine. Not forever. You literally saved our lives."

There's only the sound of breathing in the speaker, uneven and catching, and Kurt hugs the phone to his cheek and wishes there was warm flesh there instead. They just breathe together in silence for a long moment before Blaine clears his throat.

"I need a little time before I can see you again. But this isn't goodbye, okay? I will call you. I just need to process it all in my head. I'm sorry."

"I'm pretty sure that's my line." Kurt sniffles and wipes his face with a sleeve. "Thank you for calling, Blaine. Sleep well."

"Goodnight, Kurt."

* * *

Even with Blaine's assurance, the week is bleak and hard. He doesn't call again and Kurt pushes himself even further than he usually does, sleeping less, taking up additional hours at work, anything to keep himself from thinking. He whips up a batch of small evening bags from some ruined prom dresses he found at a thrift shop a few weeks ago, and sells them all during the weekend. Next Monday, on his way from work, he buys paint and drives Rachel crazy, keeping the overhead lamps on all through the night as he covers the dirty white of their walls with light gray and dark cobalt blue. Eventually, she gives up, tumbles out of bed and grabs the other roller to help, muttering something about lovesick maniacs. The next day, Kurt goes through thirteen hours of work through sheer willpower, but the restlessness is still there, even when he has barely any energy left to move.

Blaine still doesn't call.

Kurt falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow that night, at least.

He knows he can't keep up this schedule, not for long, but he doesn't quite know what else to do. Besides work and his dreams that slip further out of his grasp every day, he doesn't really have anything else.

* * *

"Grande gingerbread latte please." Kurt is at the side counter, stocking the pastries, when he hears the familiar voice, and his head snaps up immediately. "And a grande mocha for my friend Kurt if he can take a little break?"

Tabitha looks at Kurt with a smile and nods at him to go. She seems to like him, or maybe she's just grateful for the many times he's covered her shifts when her kids were sick and she couldn't find a sitter. It's an early Thursday evening, and there's a temporary lull at the coffeehouse.

He stands up, only now able to see Blaine over the counter, and his heart stutters a little at the smile in his warm eyes. He takes time untying his apron, the trembling of his fingers caused in equal measure by nerves and exhaustion.

By the time he comes out from behind the counter, their coffee is ready. Blaine takes the cups and leads the way to a corner table, away from the few patrons scattered around the room. The first shock has already passed and now with every step Kurt feels determination straightening his back. There's so much he wants to tell Blaine, some things more important than others, and he doesn't have much time now. He must use it wisely.

"I'm sorry," he says as soon as they're seated. "I know it's not enough, but it's all I have. Yes, we were selfish – _I _was selfish. I liked you and I wanted to get close to you, experience what I'd never had, even just once before I died. And I knew we were running out of time. I should have pulled away, distanced myself from you months before my birthday, so that you could get over it and not suffer so much when we were gone. But I couldn't. And I'm sorry. I know it's not something that can easily be forgiven."

Blaine shakes his head, his hands playing with his coffee cup. "No, it already is."

"What?"

"It's forgiven. That's what I came to tell you. Yes, you hurt me, but I understand. It wasn't deliberate. Desperate times, desperate measures, all that. And honestly, if I could have not suffered like that at the price of not having what we had... I don't think I'd trade it, Kurt. It was special, and I'm glad we had it."

Kurt's breath stutters out of him. "So you're not... done with me? With us?"

Blaine smiles and squeezes his hand over the table, just the shortest touch. "Of course not. I'd like to get to know you properly this time. If it's alright? Do you have time this weekend? Would that be okay if we tried again? I promise not to storm out this time."

"Yes. Of course, yes. Please."

* * *

xXxXx

_It's Saturday this time when Blaine comes over, bringing cupcakes and absolutely no expectations or preconceptions with him. Last time, he realized during his self-imposed "time out", he took it all wrong. He thought they would somehow slip back into the easy friendship they'd had, as if nothing had happened. That he would learn new things about Kurt and Rachel, fill in the blanks with new information, and just find his place in their lives again – in new circumstances, but with the three of them essentially unchanged. _

_He couldn't have been more mistaken._

_Not only are they all different now from the things they've experienced in the time they were apart, but Blaine never really _knew_ Kurt or Rachel in the first place, not beyond the tiniest fraction of what they let him know. It's more than the reconnection of old friends. He needs to meet them anew, get to know them as if they'd never met before._

_So this time, he doesn't approach their apartment all bouncy and high, a lovesick teenager excited to reconnect with long-lost friends. He comes slowly, attentively, watching his surroundings with new eyes, open to everything, but not expecting anything at all. He pays attention to the neighborhood that looks less safe than he would have liked, considering Kurt walks home late almost every night. He notices the flimsy lock on their door and the freezing cold in the apartment, seeping even through his warm blazer. He takes in the beds covered only with thin blankets, the nearly empty fridge, the counter with nothing but an old coffee maker. He sees the freshly painted walls, but doesn't miss the drafty windows or the fact that the only source of light for the whole loft are the bare fixtures overhead. He looks carefully and recognizes the signs of hardship at Kurt and Rachel's faces, their eyes too serious, as if they've seen too much for their age, their old sparkle muted. _

_He takes it all in and he aches with the need to help. To protect them._

_But first, he needs to know more._

xXxXx

* * *

**Chapter song: **_For You Only _by Trading Yesterday

The next chapter will be posted on** Wednesday 25 September.**


	8. Chapter 5: The past uncovered

**CHAPTER 5: The past uncovered**

"Tell me your story," Blaine starts as soon as they are settled. He's taken the armchair this time, leaving the two of them on the couch.

"You need to be more specific than that, you know," Kurt says. He's calmer now than he was the last time, probably because everything that could go wrong already did.

Blaine nods.

"Okay, how did it start then? Your parents got together when you were nine, right? So did they just… announce that you were supposed to be married right then?"

"No." It's Rachel who answers. "They mentioned it for the first time just after my tenth birthday. I think they needed to see if we really fit together first."

"And you just accepted that?"

Kurt smiles. "When you are nine or ten, you don't question it too much when your parents tell you something as an indisputable fact. Especially when they present it as something to look forward to. Like, _When you're twelve, you'll get a new bike_. Except in our case it was, _When you're seventeen, you'll have a beautiful wedding and you'll start your own family_." He shrugs. "It didn't feel weird then. We even made pretend weddings and played house. Rachel made me propose at least a dozen times, each one more preposterous than the one before."

He chuckles fondly at the memories, sweet and untainted, and Rachel swats his arm and sticks her tongue out at him. Blaine shakes his head, his eyes wide.

"Did you even know each other before? From the… the Harbor or–"

Kurt shakes his head. "No. We didn't live in the community until we moved in together."

"Wait, you say, _live in_ the community," Blaine says, frowning. "So is it like… some compound or something?"

Rachel snickers quietly. "No, it's just a normal suburban neighborhood, a few streets with identical little houses owned by the Harbor. The whole point of the group is creating a tightly-knit community, so we–" she pauses and corrects herself. "_They_ all live close together, but it's not some fanatic camp in the woods."

Blaine blushes, chuckling self-consciously. "Okay, so how did you become a part of that community then?"

Kurt takes over. "My mom and Rachel's father met in a support group sponsored by them. They dated for a few months, as far as I know, but Rachel and I only met once before they decided to join the Harbor and move in together."

"So before that, you had normal childhoods," Blaine muses.

"More or less." Kurt shrugs. "Mine was pretty much perfect until my dad died when I was seven. He just collapsed one night when we were setting the table for dinner and that was it. Nothing was ever the same after that." His breath still hitches slightly at the memory, so vivid even after all this time. "We had to sell the house and rent a tiny apartment. My mom started working two jobs, so I was always home alone." He notices Blaine's crestfallen expression and pulls back from the painful memories. It was a long time ago. "Well, at least I had both parents for some time."

Rachel raises her eyebrow. "I don't know why you keep assuming that's better. At least I never really knew what I was missing. The way I see it, never knowing one of your parents must be easier than losing them."

Blaine's attention shifts to her now, his face still the picture of compassion. "So you never met your mom? Not once?"

Rachel has that too-bright smile on her face, her voice forcefully chipper.

"She left us when I was a month old, so it's not like I didn't _meet_ her – I just don't remember her." She glances at Blaine and deflates a bit under his sad eyes. "She was nineteen and in college when she got pregnant. Her future was supposed to be on stage, not at home with a baby and a much older husband. So she just... cracked, I think. She simply left one day. I used to believe she must have had post-partum depression, but she's never contacted us since, so–"

She shrugs, her chin held high and face cheerful; a brave little girl determined not to let the world see how hurt she is. But she can't fool Kurt, she never could. He knows how deep that hurt runs, has known ever since that first time she cried on his shoulder in the dead of the night, a nine-year-old girl who just wanted her real mommy.

Blaine shakes his head. "So you never really had a mom until your parents got together?"

"Well, my Nana lived with us – my dad's mom. She was old, but she was like a mom to me, really, so it's not like I never had a mother figure as a child, Blaine." She huffs. "But... well, she died eventually and it got really lonely then, yes. And hard for my dad, too – he had to take care of a little girl in addition to managing a company on the verge of bankruptcy. He didn't really know how to do that alone." She shakes off the somber mood that descended on all of them. "But hey, no, don't make the sad panda face. Yes, our childhoods sucked sometimes, but we both survived, we're here and we're just fine. No lasting damage, see?"

Kurt's not so sure about that last part, but she's right, there's no use wallowing in the long-ago pain. Blaine seems to agree, too, because he's smiling now, curious.

"So what was it like when you first met? Was it love at first sight? Or friendship at least?" His eyes are soft and affectionate, as if he imagines their nine year old selves and finds it adorable. They both snort, looking at each other.

"Oh god no, it was a nightmare." Kurt declares and Rachel nods vigorously.

"He was such a pest."

"She was a drama queen already at nine."

Rachel shakes her head, her eyes wide and voice dramatic. "We secretly hated each other the first time we met, and a week later we were sharing a room, so you can imagine. I'd never had to share with anyone, much less a _boy_! And it's not even like there wasn't enough room for separate bedrooms, but our parents told us we needed to bond and no arguments worked. I'm telling you, those first weeks were _bad_."

"They were _terrible_." Kurt says, gravely, and then they look at each other and dissolve into giggles.

Blaine watches them, amused. "Wow. So how did you get from that to...? I mean, you clearly got closer at some point."

Rachel's eyes soften and she takes Kurt's hand.

"We did. It took a few weeks of alternating between yelling at each other and pretending the other didn't exist, but we got there. After all, the changes were hard for both of us, and at some point we realized it would be easier to face them together, as friends, not enemies."

She squeezes Kurt's hand and he squeezes back, remembering that first night of mutual comfort, so many years ago.

"Our parents argued a lot in the beginning," he says. "I think it took them a while to find dynamics that worked for each of them, after years of being alone. They never fought in front of us, but when they thought we were asleep – well. And the acoustics in that house were almost too good. You know how scary it is when your _whole life_ gets turned on its head with a promise that it's going to be better now, and instead everything feels more unstable than ever?" Kurt looks at Blaine, whose face is sympathetic and engaged, but Kurt can tell he doesn't _really _know. After all, Blaine is lucky to come from a stable, happy family. Kurt shrugs. "One night, when they were particularly loud downstairs, I heard Rach crying in her bed across the room. I thought I was the only one awake, and I was on the verge of tears myself, so I just got up and went to her. I knew that she understood. That was the beginning, before we discovered how similar we were."

Rachel smiles at him and cuddles closer on the couch, laying her head on his shoulder. Blaine bites his lip, pondering his next question.

"So why exactly did they pair you up? Why the two of you, why was it decided so early? I assume that's how it works in that community of yours, but why?"

Kurt sighs. Trying to explain the crazy that used to be their life in a rational way is a challenge.

"Pairing up children to groom them into loyal future followers is part of the Harbor's philosophy," he says finally. Rachel folds her legs under herself and lets him speak. "It happens early so the kids can grow up close and aware of their connection. The optimal situation is when they can grow up together under one roof, from the moment they are paired. They encourage single parents with potentially matching children to date and eventually create a family."

"But it makes the children siblings, doesn't it? How can they get married then?"

Kurt shakes his head. "Oh, no. The parents only have a community ceremony and symbolically change their names. There's no real marriage. They don't adopt each other's kids, either, and the children are raised as future partners rather than actual siblings."

"And it works?" Blaine sounds skeptical.

"Surprisingly well. We knew half a dozen couples who had started out like us and were happily married with children of their own by the time we left LA." Kurt shrugs. "I guess it makes sense. Kids get to know each other in every way, and as they get older, they are encouraged to experiment like all teens do – it's bound to create a strong connection."

Blaine's eyebrows almost reach the curls on his forehead as they shoot up at this statement. "Wait, so you were _allowed_ to kiss or… more?"

"Of course," Rachel pipes in, amused. "At home we were allowed to behave like any teen couple would – encouraged, even. Where do you think we learned how to kiss?" She winks, and Blaine chokes on his coffee. She grins and continues. "Our parents found us sleeping in the same bed countless times, and it was okay, too, a sign that we were getting along well. Even if we had decided to have sex with each other, it wouldn't be a problem."

"Really?" Blaine's eyes are wide as saucers.

"Really." She nods. "We'd have an appointment with a marriage educator first, for a lecture on sexuality and fidelity, and to consider birth control options, because having children before the wedding is typically not encouraged."

"_Typically_."

"Yes. Unless a couple decides that's what they want."

If Blaine's eyes could get any wider, they would. "Whoa. And it happens?"

Kurt shrugs. "Sometimes. Many of the couples really can't wait to start the happy married life they've been promised. And if that's what they want, they are supported by the whole community. Help with the baby, homeschooling, stable jobs or financial help if they decide to finish school first… Family is everything and children are a blessing, there's no greater good."

"It doesn't sound like such a bad thing, when you say it like that." Blaine sounds doubtful.

"It isn't." Kurt smiles sadly. "It's not a bad place to live, the Harbor. If you don't mind their rules and beliefs."

"Right. Like no homosexuality."

"No homosexuality, no questioning their choices, no independent thinking. No freedom in choosing your partner or your career beyond the narrow scope they suggest. No creativity apart from the arts and crafts classes which are only for girls and women anyway. No messing around with gender roles. No free will." Kurt shudders. Even just remembering it makes him feel claustrophobic.

"And all that for what, ultimately? If not for some god?" Blaine asks, curious.

"For a happier future." Kurt quirks a smile. "I mean, peaceful, carefree living now, too, but ultimately, the goal is to create a community that is free from the _poisons of modern world_."

"Like the Amish?"

"Not quite that far," Kurt says. "They claim that our world has gone too far in chasing money, entertainment and convenience. That it's too commercialized. Corporations, rat race, mass media – it all weakens the families, and without strong, traditional families, there can't be strong individuals. So they cut off these things and focus on people."

Blaine looks thoughtful, his eyebrows knit. "I'm forced to admit that it makes sense."

Kurt nods. "It does, I know. It _all_ makes sense when you don't look too deep. It's like being a part of a big, loud family that gets together all the time because there are no TVs or computers at home to distract them. You have help and support when you need it. Everyone looks after your children. You're given a stable, decently-paid job with great benefits in one of the businesses connected to the Harbor. Overall, you're simply treated like a human being, a valuable member of society."

Blaine doesn't say anything, but Kurt can see the wheels turning in his head as he processes it with a frown. He's pretty sure he knows what Blaine is thinking.

"It sounds great, doesn't it?" Kurt says with a smile. "Especially for struggling single parents whom the support groups target. No more working three shitty jobs to make ends meet. No more leaving your kids home alone all day because sitters are too expensive. No more feeling like nobody cares. It's a dream come true." He can't quite contain the sarcastic tone by the end and Blaine looks at him, curious.

"But?"

"But." Kurt sighs. "It's a prison. Well, don't get me wrong – for many people, this is paradise. They _want_ someone to make the decisions for them, to give them the rules and let them just follow, without thinking. They want peace, and they've struggled for so long that being able to simply adapt sounds like heaven on earth. It doesn't matter that the Council suggests who you should date, what hobbies are wholesome enough to pursue and who your children should marry. They clearly know better."

Blaine ponders this for a moment. "And your parents believed it, too?"

"Yes. They flourished in the community, there's no doubt about it. The year of exile in Lima was really hard for them."

Blaine bounces in the armchair, just once. "Right! That's what I wanted to ask about – what was the LA business? What did you _do_ that they sent your whole family away?"

Rachel snickers. "We might have… seduced a girl. Or two. Though not at the same time, and they only knew about the second one." She grins at Blaine's shocked face. "We already knew we didn't really feel what we were supposed to feel for each other, so we wanted to see if it's any different with other people."

"But _girls_?" Blaine asks dubiously. Kurt can't blame him – it's not like either of them is attracted to girls, really.

Rachel shrugs. "It was easier to find adventurous girls who wanted to experiment with girl _and_ boy kisses. And safer if we got caught, since no one could say I was considering losing my virginity outside of the approved relationship."

"And you did get caught."

Rachel nods. "One of the teachers walked in on us in the janitor's closet. Unfortunately, it was the old hag who sponsored the celibacy club, so she reported us to our parents immediately. Though in her eyes, it was Kurt fooling around while I was being the depraved sister standing watch. Thank god no one thought to ask the girl." She rolls her eyes. They can joke about it now, but back then, it wasn't funny at all.

Blaine frowns. "And that's all? Such a big deal about some kisses? That was enough to send your whole family away?"

Kurt bites his lip. "We might have not been contrite enough. We mouthed off and kept defending each other instead of groveling for forgiveness, so in the end, the Council decided that the big city was bad for our morals and that our parents weren't strict enough. The Council had just acquired a company in Lima that they wanted to use for the Harbor needs and Rachel's father had enough experience to manage it for them, so that's where we were sent. It was an opportunity for our parents to keep a closer eye on us as well as a punishment. Being away from the community is what every member fears most."

"Huh." Blaine plays with his coffee cup, his expression thoughtful. "This community of yours sounds weird, but not monstrous."

Kurt sighs. "Yeah. It mostly isn't, if you fit the mold they give you nicely, don't think too much and don't question their rules."

"But you did."

"But we did." Kurt pauses, suddenly tired and vaguely sad. Those years were hard in so many ways, and yet it was home – and he misses it. The longing comes back sometimes when he isn't prepared.

He picks up his coffee. "Okay. Can we stop here, for today? I can tell you more about our lives there if you're curious, but I think I need a break."

"Of course. Can I ask one more question?"

"Shoot."

"Is it why you don't have a TV here, or a computer? Do you still believe in some of these rules?"

Kurt looks away. He hates the words he's about to say.

"No. We just can't afford them."

He's expecting pity, but Blaine just grins. "So I can take you to the movies then? You're not against commercialized entertainment in general?"

Kurt snorts. He can't help it. "No, you silly man. I love movies."

Rachel perks up, her head rising from Kurt's shoulder where it's been resting. "Hey, what about me? I love movies too!"

"It's settled then, I'm taking you both to the movies." Blaine's smile is warm, joyous. "Just tell me when and it's a d– _um_. Plan."

* * *

**Chapter songs: **_Family Portrait _by P!nk

_Pretend (Reprise)_ by Lights

**The next chapter will be posted on Saturday 28 September.**


	9. Chapter 6: Someone to care

**CHAPTER 6: Someone to care**

"So what was the risk you were taking, dating me? What would have happened if you'd been caught?" Blaine asks casually when they sit in the theater lobby a few days later, way too early for the movie because of Rachel's impatience to go.

Kurt is suddenly very interested in the popcorn bucket balanced on his knees. He winces when Rachel immediately takes it upon herself to answer.

"Oh, you know, just public humiliation in front of the whole Harbor in LA," she says brightly. "They would have made us confess to our _mistakes _and promise to fix our ways. _Again_. There might have been whipping, too, since we were repeat offenders."

Kurt dares a glance at Blaine's face, which is pale, his eyes wide. Rachel adds, as if she honestly forgot. "And of course, reparative therapy if they knew about you and Kurt. That was actually one of the reasons I was involved from the beginning, as a cover-up in case anyone found out. They would have shamed and alienated me if anyone thought _I_ was with you, but at least I wouldn't have been drugged and brain-washed." She shrugs.

Blaine looks between them both, flabbergasted. "Why did you do it then? How could anything have been worth such a risk?"

Kurt chews his lip for a moment. When he answers, his voice comes out quiet.

"Imagine you were never allowed to feel what you felt or like the person that gave you butterflies in your stomach when you first saw them. Imagine being aware that you were going to _die_ not knowing what it was like to hold this person's hand, or kiss them, or be in love." He doesn't miss the soft little gasp Blaine lets out, but he speaks on. "Believe me, it was worth the risk." Blaine looks like he's about to tear up, so Kurt adds, to lighten the mood. "At least to me. Rachel was just crazy enough to indulge me."

"Yes," Rachel pipes in. "And I didn't even get in on the best parts," she teases, and then jumps up, excited, because they just started letting people in. She's halfway to the door before Blaine manages to find his voice, and that's the end of the topic for the night.

* * *

Blaine comes back to it on Saturday, when he drops by the coffeeshop after his piano tutoring. Kurt has just finished his shift, so they decide to sit down with the coffee Blaine bought rather than take a walk in the November rain. Blaine doesn't even bother with small-talk.

"So you're eighteen now."

"Mhm?" Kurt keeps stirring his coffee, the headache he can't quite shake today making his brain feel woozy and slow. He's not quite sure where Blaine is going with this.

"So why are you still hiding?" Blaine asks, and _oh_, okay. That's what this is about. "I mean, you're legally adult. You could let your parents know you're alive. You could get your records and finish school like you want to. So why don't you? They can't do anything to you anymore, can they?"

Kurt sighs. "I don't know." He takes a sip of his coffee, delightfully hot in the room that feels strangely chilly tonight. There must be something wrong with the thermostat. "I'd like to think that we're safe now, but I honestly don't know. The Harbor has outposts in several other big cities – I don't know which exactly, but my first guess would be New York. That's why we didn't come here until we were both eighteen. If there's one thing we've learned from our mistakes back in LA, it's that they have their ways to find out things their members are trying to hide. And when they do, they make sure to express their disapproval."

Blaine shakes his head, confused. "But you're not members anymore. You got out. Why would they care?"

Kurt shrugs and winces at the dull ache in his shoulders. "Because we are their failures, and they don't have many of these. We've been groomed and taught perfectly, and still we rebelled. We slipped away right under their noses, and they hadn't suspected anything. Dead or alive, we made them seem weak, and they don't forgive that easily. They will not miss the opportunity to make us an example for the others to see if they find us. They can't force us into marriage anymore, but they _will_ find us, and I'm terrified of what they will do then. Just because they can."

Blaine doesn't look convinced, so Kurt rolls his eyes. "Come on. They have a _punisher_ on the council, Blaine. These people _love_ their rules and punishments."

Blaine stills with the cup halfway to his lips. "They have a _what?_"

"A punisher. He's like… the community's judge, jury, psychologist and the strict father in one. We used to call him the Haunt, just between us, because he's, well, haunting." Kurt shudders at the memory of the thin, pale man that scared the life out of him for years. "He's really soft spoken, very polite, and when he talks to you, he has a way of making you trust him so that you tell him all your troubles, including any and all the little crimes you may have committed. He makes you believe he'll help you, that everything will be alright. And then he goes and finds the most fitting punishment for you, leaving you convinced that it's for your own good."

Blaine looks spooked. "Have you ever experienced it first hand?"

Kurt shakes his head. "No. But Rachel did."

"What did she do?"

"She loved her hair too much."

This gets a disbelieving stare out of Blaine. "What?"

Kurt nods, and then immediately regrets it when the pain in his head flares with the movement.

"She had a sleepover at her school friend's house once, I think we were eleven. She came home with her nails painted pink and her hair curly, and spent all day begging our parents to buy her a curler because she looked so pretty like that. She had really long hair, halfway down her back, beautiful." He smiles at the memory, her little face alight with happiness that morning. "Two days later she got invited for a little chat with the Haunt. And the day after her father took her to a hair salon and had her hair cut into a short bob." Blaine gasps. "She cried for a week. They never actually said it was a punishment, but the theme of vanity and being too consumed with your looks was lectured upon in our house for a few weeks then."

"But she was just a little girl!" Blaine shakes his head, incredulous.

"I know. And yet, it didn't matter." Kurt nods, serious. "Like I said. They love their punishments."

They finish their coffee in silence.

* * *

When Kurt wakes up the next morning, his teeth chattering and his whole body aching, it's quite clear he's no longer just feeling under the weather. Between the fever, the coughing that seems to skin his throat raw every time, and feeling dizzy when he does as much as sit up, there's no way he can go to work.

The little bakery owner, who knows them both, agrees to let Rachel take Kurt's shifts for the week, but the Starbucks hours are lost, and the thought of what this will do to their budget really isn't conducive to resting and recovering. Kurt lies curled in bed, freezing even though he's covered with every blanket and throw they own, and tries to will the sickness away. He really has no time for this, dammit.

Calling Blaine to tell him not to come over like he planned – and to ramble about stupid germs from stupid sniffly customers – doesn't help either. As soon as Blaine hears his croaking, feverish explanation, he tells Kurt to put Rachel on the phone, so all Kurt can do is lie there pouting into his pillow and feeling more miserable than ever as he listens to Rachel chatting animatedly in the kitchen.

Of course she gets all the fun. Maybe Blaine likes her more than him. Maybe they will go out and enjoy themselves without him. Maybe they will kiss and fall in love and have beautiful babies, and Kurt will lie here in the mess of stupid cold blankets and cough his lungs out. Or something.

He falls into a restless sleep eventually, and when he wakes up, he's surprised to feel warm.

The heap of blankets is gone and there's a fluffy blue comforter tucked around him instead, a wonderful cocoon of warmth that Kurt never wants to leave ever again, no matter how it came to be here. Maybe it was magic. Maybe it's just a hallucination, but if it is, he doesn't want it to stop. He hasn't felt this toasty in his bed since the last warm spell in mid-October.

He thinks he can hear Rachel talking with someone – is she still on the phone with Blaine? Doesn't she know they can't afford long calls, now more than ever? He tries to call out to tell her that, but only makes himself cough terribly, a long, resonating hack that hurts deep in his chest and leaves him winded, curled in a fetal position.

A cool hand touches his burning forehead and Kurt leans into the touch, his eyes still closed.

At least until he hears a voice next to him.

"Hey. How are you feeling?" It startles him, his eyes snapping open – and hey, apparently the comforter isn't the only thing he hallucinated.

"Warm," he manages, and the vision smiles. Kurt has to congratulate himself – his subconscious managed to make its smile just as beautiful as the real Blaine's.

"Good," the not-Blaine says. "That's what I hoped for. Do you think you can sit up a little? I brought chicken soup. You should eat some before you take the meds."

Moving hurts. Every muscle in Kurt's body is achy and weak despite not doing anything besides lying in bed, but with some help, he's soon propped up comfortably against the pillow, still swaddled in the comforter.

The new position seems to bring some clarity to Kurt's head and by the time Blaine returns from his short foray to the kitchen, carrying a bowl of steaming soup and a spoon, he's pretty sure he can tell reality from the creations of his overheated brain. He has to make sure, though.

"You're real, aren't you?"

Even through the shadow of worry, Blaine seems amused. "I think I am." He sits on the edge of Kurt's bed and stirs the soup, blowing on it a little.

"But how can you be here?" Kurt muses. "I told you not to come."

"And I didn't listen. You are sick and you need someone to take care of you." Blaine answers as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

"But I have Rachel."

Blaine holds a spoonful of soup to Kurt's mouth. "True. But you have no meds, barely any heat and no decent food. Open up."

Kurt shakes his head, indignant. "I can feed myself."

"You could try, but you'd have to take your arms out from beneath the covers, and it's still cold in here. Even if you did, I bet you're all shaky. You're burning up. Come on, let me help." Blaine still holds the spoon in front of Kurt's face, steady and full of soup that smells heavenly and makes Kurt remember he hadn't eaten since last night. Giving up the fight, he opens his mouth.

The soup is warm and delicious, but it only takes a dozen spoonfuls before he can eat no more, suddenly full and a little queasy. He weakly pushes Blaine's hand away and slumps lower against the pillow, sweat gathering on his forehead. Without a word of protest Blaine puts the bowl away on the crate that serves as Kurt's bedside table and takes a glass of water and three pills from it.

"What are these?" Kurt is suddenly exhausted after the simple effort of eating.

"Something to get the fever down and a decongestant." Blaine says. "My parents are doctors, remember? They told me what to get you and what to watch for. Trust me, okay?"

Trusting Blaine is the easiest thing in the world. It only takes one step, letting go of the shaky remnants of control, and Kurt is there. Blaine could probably tell him to step into the fire and at this point, Kurt wouldn't question it at all. He lets Blaine feed him the pills one by one – soft touches of his fingertips to Kurt's lips followed by sips of water, and the cool hand on his forehead again, smoothing away his sweaty hair. It feels like heaven, safe and caring, and Kurt wants to stay like this forever, or at least until he stops feeling like he's been hit with a germ-ridden truck.

Except he really needs to pee.

It should be more embarrassing to accept Blaine's supporting arm when Kurt's legs give out as soon as he takes two steps. With all of their history and Kurt's feelings still alive and strong as ever, it should be mortifying to have to be led to the bathroom, sweaty and disheveled, and not at all presentable.

But it isn't. He's let go. And it's really hard to find energy for embarrassment when he's shaking like a leaf anyway. Blaine deposits him in their tiny bathroom, makes sure Kurt can stand steadily enough when supporting himself on the counter, and then leaves to grant him privacy.

He comes back from the bedroom when Kurt opens the door a few minutes later.

By the time Kurt is safely back in his bed and curled into his warm coccoon, he's utterly spent. When he realizes his pillow and comforter have been turned to their fresh, non-sweaty sides, and there's a hot water bottle by his feet, Kurt moans in delight.

Blaine smiles. "Good?"

"Perfect." He's already losing to sleep, his eyes drooping heavily and his voice slurry. "I love you." He mumbles. Or at least tries.

He's not sure if the soft kiss to his forehead is reality or if he's imagining it, but before he can ponder this difficult issue, he's pulled into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Where's Blaine?" is the first thing out of Kurt's mouth after his violent coughing fit brings Rachel into his bedroom some time later.

It's dark outside and the whole experience from before feels like a very vivid dream, but the comforter is still nice and warm around him and the cool water bottle lying by his feet serves as proof. Kurt's throat feels dry and scratchy after his nap, his breathing labored, but at least the fever broke. His clothes are sticking unpleasantly to his skin, glued with a generous layer of sweat. Yuck.

Rachel perches on the edge of his bed and touches his forehead, her hand warmer than Blaine's and less comforting somehow, nice as it is. "He went home for the night. He gave me about a million pieces of advice, as if I'd never cared for a sick person–"

"Rach, let's be honest, you haven't."

"Okay, but I mean, how hard can it be? Anyway, he told me he'll be back tomorrow after his classes. Do you want some more soup or something? Tea? Crackers? I'm supposed to feed you and water you and give you meds in an hour, and–"

"I just want a shower and something dry to wear." Kurt rasps and shudders at the thought of leaving the warm bed.

In the end, it isn't too bad – the apartment seems a lot warmer than before, and the hot water, while making Kurt cough in the steamy air, feels wonderful on his aching muscles. By the time he is clean, dressed in fresh warm clothes and has eaten some more soup, Kurt is tired again and his temperature is rising fast. He welcomes the perfect asylum of his bed with a happy sigh. It feels weird to need so much sleep when he's been getting by on five hours a night or less for months, but he honestly can't keep his eyes open.

He's teetering on the edge of consciousness for some time as Rachel sits by his bed, telling him how Blaine brought the comforters for them and gave them a small heater from his dorm room, and how he insulated their windows with some self-stick rubber weather sealing and installed a few small table lamps in their bedrooms and kitchen. Kurt's barely awake by the time she declares it's time for his meds, and the NyQuil knocks him out cold within minutes.

* * *

The apartment is empty and quiet when Kurt wakes up the next morning. Rachel must be at the bakery to work Kurt's shift, which means she won't be back until noon at least, but there's orange juice and a banana on his makeshift bedside table, and a few pills beside them.

Kurt's throat feels as if it's been scrubbed with a wire brush and he starts coughing again as soon as he sits up, which only exacerbates the pounding in his head. It takes minutes until the initial bout passes and by then Kurt is curled up, feeling utterly miserable and a little sorry for himself – a feeling he'd never admit to anyone. The thought that he's alone and helpless against the rebellion of his own body makes the longing for his mom flare painfully.

He's usually really good at suppressing any thoughts and feelings concerning their home and family. He said his goodbyes. Leaving the house that last night, he knew he would never see it, or his mom, again. He's even learned to live with the knowledge that she thinks she lost him, too. But every now and then the feelings overflow and spike in a storm of regret, longing and guilt that leaves him breathless for a moment.

How much he would give to have his mom with him here, now.

Kurt allows himself to wallow in self-pity for a little longer before telling himself he needs to behave like the adult he is, and dragging himself out of bed. The plan is to do something useful, maybe sew for a few hours since he's home with time on his hands for once, but soon it becomes clear that going to the bathroom and making tea is just about all he can handle. Resigned, he crawls into bed again and spends the morning coughing, tossing and turning, frustrated because he feels so _useless_.

By the time he hears the key in the lock, he's ready to scream – or would be, if he didn't know what it would do to his throat. As it is, he really hopes Rachel is in a patient mood today because holding back whining is quickly ceasing to be an option.

Except it's not Rachel that appears in the opening of the curtains separating his bedroom from hers.

"Blaine?"

There are raindrops in Blaine's hair and on the shoulders of his black coat, but his smile is warm and genuine.

"Hey. How are you feeling? I brought you lunch." He raises the bag he's holding in his hand. "Do you prefer soup, risotto or some of this baguette with butter and honey?"

Kurt goes through the effort of raising his eyebrows at him. "At some point, we'll need to talk about you spending a fortune and buying all these things for us. But for now, can I have some soup? I don't think I can swallow anything solid."

Blaine grins. "Of course."

* * *

Rachel comes back hours later, when it's already dark outside and Kurt has had time to eat, talk to Blaine a little, and nap again. He's sitting under the covers in his bed, with Blaine on a chair nearby, when she comes in humming happily and dancing though the loft, dropping kisses on both of their cheeks.

"Sorry I'm late, I knew Blaine would come so I went to see if there are any new auditions available and I found the best thing instead."

Kurt lets out a questioning sound, his throat too sore to do much more, even with as little conversation as he's had with Blaine.

Rachel bounces on the balls of her feet. "Wait for it: a Broadway-hopefuls' club. It's a little like a training camp, a group of beginning actors who try to get their big break. They get together a few times a week to practice and read lines and learn things from one another and from more experienced guest lecturers. They keep track of all the interesting auditions on and off-Broadway, and they support one another through the struggle and doubts. It's amazing! And the best thing is, it's completely free – one guy there has access to an empty old theater. It's not very glamorous, but the acoustics are amazing, and they let you come to practice alone before auditions after you've been a member for a few months and–"

She's practically vibrating with excitement and Kurt frowns. His fever is rising again and the dull ache in his head hasn't quite stopped all day, so he can't think clearly, but something is bothering him about what she's saying. Fortunately Blaine spells it out for him.

"Wait, where did they find an empty theater space to use for free in Manhattan?"

Rachel pauses and bites her lip before answering. "Well... it's not quite in Manhattan."

"Where is it then?" Blaine asks, confused.

Rachel glances at them guiltily. "I went to the theater district and walked around for a bit, just, you know, enjoying the atmosphere... And I found their leaflet. So I called. And it turned out they were having a meeting just an hour later, so I went. I couldn't miss such a chance, could I?"

"Where was it?" Blaine asks.

"In the Bronx." She tries very hard to say it lightly.

Kurt forgets all about his raw throat immediately, all the stories he's heard about the dangers of life in New York flashing through his head. "You went to an abandoned theater in the Bronx to meet people you didn't know, _alone_? Based only on a random leaflet and a phone call? And you didn't even let me know where you were going?"

Rachel winces. "You wouldn't have let me go if I told you, and it felt like fate that they were having the meeting–"

"More like a setup! God, Rachel, it could have been anyone, you could have been robbed, kidnapped, or _raped _for god's sake. What were you _thinking_?"

Her face falls, lower lip trembling as she tries to hold in tears at Kurt's raised voice. "But I wasn't! I'm _fine_, and it really was an acting group. And I'm an adult, Kurt, I don't need your permission to go anywhere!"

"Well you surely don't behave like an adult!" Kurt's voice breaks on the yell before a violent fit of coughing rips through him, and she turns her back without a word and storms out. "You're not going there again," he calls out after her once he stops wheezing for breath, not sure if she can hear him at all with how rough his voice is.

"Yes I will," comes the haughty answer from the direction of the kitchen. "I already told them I'm joining. I'm going there on Friday and you can't stop me."

She's clearly crying and the anger at her thoughtless actions suddenly melts away, leaving Kurt exhausted and a little ashamed of his harsh comments.

Blaine touches his hand, understanding clear on his face. "I'll go talk to her."

Kurt can only nod wordlessly and hide his face in the comforter.

* * *

A long hushed conversation later, there's a sound of the door rolling open and closed, and then Blaine returns to sit on the edge of Kurt's bed.

"I'm going with her this Friday," he says. "To see if it's really a legit acting group or if she's just that naive. I managed to convince her and she even got excited about me potentially joining. I'll keep an eye on her, Kurt."

"So why did she leave?" Kurt is still feeling a little guilty and a lot concerned.

"I asked her to get take-out for dinner. It will give her time to calm down. She knows you're just worried, you know. But she seems to be struggling with the new life here."

Kurt sighs. "I know," he whispers, unable to speak at a normal volume after his earlier explosion. "She never planned for this. For living to be eighteen and beyond."

"Have you?" Blaine looks at him intently.

Kurt shrugs. "Not really. But I had dreams at least. Hers ended with a romantic death and a beautiful funeral. Mine started with 'If I had more time...' It makes a world of difference."

By the time Rachel returns with Chinese – there's soup and vegetarian noodles for Kurt, thank god, his throat can't handle anything remotely spicy – everything seems to be back to normal. They eat in Kurt's bedroom and Rachel entertains Blaine, going through the good memories from their Harbor past: the afternoons spent on their bikes, discovering new paths and hiding places and always, always talking. The singing performances they used to give for their parents and a few times, the whole community. The warm and crowded community holidays. The nights spent in bed together as they were growing up, sharing secrets and questions and doubts. The strength of their friendship, together against everything the world threw at them.

Eventually, Blaine has to go back to his dorm. He makes sure Kurt takes his meds and hugs them both before leaving. Rachel comes back after locking the door behind him and hovers uncertainly a few feet from the bed.

"Kurt, I'm sorry. I'll be more careful, I promise."

Kurt reaches for her hand and she quickly moves towards the bed. "I'm sorry I yelled at you," he rasps. "I just can't stand the thought of something bad happening to you. You're the only family I have left."

He pulls at her hand and she goes easily, sitting next to him, then lying down with her head on his shoulder, not caring about the germs. She's still there when he falls asleep, and when he wakes up early in the morning, his teeth chattering feverishly again, despite his warm cocoon, she's there under the covers with him, spooning him and sharing her body warmth.

* * *

The next chapter will be posted on** Monday 30 September.**


	10. Chapter 7: The road to NY

**CHAPTER 7: The road to NY**

The worst of the flu passes within the next few days, but Kurt still can't stop coughing, so his supervisor at Starbucks won't let him come back to work yet. Apparently a barista who sounds like he's about to die of consumption might be bad for business. With an unusual amount of time on his hands, Kurt decides to go through his stash of odd fabric bits he's collected over the months of hunting at charity shops.

His usual creations – ties and headbands and little purses, mostly, because all he has to work with is scraps – sell relatively well, even though he lost his whole Etsy following when he had to abandon his old account for secrecy. This time, though, between his restlessness and the lingering low-grade fever, he can't stand the repetitive feel of the same boring designs again. So he lets his imagination take over, his hands flying over the fabrics, cutting, pinning, sewing, without planning or a conscious thought. The result is the strangest, most colorful collection of accessories he's ever created – and it's made entirely for kids: dozens of tiny bowties and little girl's handbags, hats and hair ties and flower pins, even a few child-sized silk scarves.

On Friday morning, he drags himself to the library and uploads the whole lot to his Etsy store, hoping to aid their budget somehow.

And he hits the jackpot: despite the crappy phone photos, one buyer purchases everything he has before Kurt even leaves the library. Stunned, Kurt wonders if it's some kind of prank – these kinds of miracles don't happen, not really – but the payment goes through immediately and suddenly, he can breathe easier. It's more money than he's lost not working this week. He can even pay Blaine back for everything he bought for them when Kurt was sick.

Or he could, if Blaine actually let him.

"Nope, there's no way I'm taking your money." Blaine has just returned with Rachel from the acting group, cautiously optimistic about them being exactly what they claim to be and not a threat. He's now sitting on the couch opposite Kurt, warming his hands on a cup of tea. "I brought some stuff because I wanted to help my friends. I'm sure you would do the same if I found myself in need and you had money to spare. I can afford it, Kurt. Why can't you just accept that?"

Kurt frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. "I don't want charity," he mumbles.

"But it's not charity," Blaine insists. "It's sharing with people I care about."

"But it makes me feel like we're taking advantage of you."

"You're not, though. You're going through some temporary hardships. You will find your footing eventually, I'm sure of it – you will find a way to finish school and pursue the careers you dream of, and things will get easier. But for now, let me take some weight off your shoulders, okay? Keep the money, buy yourself something nice, or even just save it for future expenses. I don't need it back because it wasn't a loan. It was a gift of not having to worry for a few days. Please don't refuse that."

He looks so intent and earnest that Kurt sighs and gives up. "Okay. Thank you. But please don't spend any more money on us. No more bringing us things, okay?"

Blaine pouts. "Not even little things? Cookies when I come to visit? Coffee sometimes?"

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Fine, little things are an exception. I just." He bites his lip, an annoying nervous habit he picked up somewhere along the way. "I can manage, Blaine. I really can."

"I know you can. But you don't have to always manage on your own. Not anymore." Blaine reaches for his hand and squeezes it, and Kurt's heart flutters helplessly.

But then Blaine lets go.

* * *

Over the next week, Blaine develops a new routine. Since his classes and tutoring end earlier than Kurt's shifts, he comes to the coffee shop every night to walk Kurt to the subway. He doesn't always buy coffee for them, mindful of his promise, but his time and presence feel like a gift anyway. It's not _that_ close from his dorm, after all, and they don't even have much time to talk before Kurt gets on the train. It's hard for Kurt to believe anyone would find it worth their time to trek through the cold and rain on a November evening just to spend half an hour with him. And yet, it seems like Blaine is happy to do it every day.

It's a week until Thanksgiving and it feels surreal that barely a month ago, Kurt was still too scared to try and reconnect with Blaine. Now he can't imagine a day without Blaine's good-night phone call. So much has happened in the last four weeks, so many secrets are out in the open now – and Blaine is still here, sticking by them stronger than ever. There's only one part of their past he still hasn't asked about.

Until he does, on a particularly cold night, a promise of the season's first snow in the air as they walk out of the warmth of the coffee shop.

"Kurt, what happened between your escape and the day you came to my dorm? How did you two survive all those months out there alone?"

Kurt winces and stops by the door to fix his scarf, stalling a little. It's not that he doesn't want to talk about it – it's just hard. The entire first year before they moved to New York was the hardest time in Kurt's life and he doesn't like to think about it. There was too much fear, too little safety, nothing certain in their little world as they ran and hid and just tried to survive. It's hard to talk about it, to contain all that in simple words. But he will try. He promised he would.

With a deep breath, he grabs Blaine's hand and pulls him back into the Starbucks. This is going to be a long talk, so there's no use freezing their noses off outside. He points to a corner table, the most secluded spot in the entire shop, and then ignores Blaine's protests and goes to get the coffee himself. It's a nice feeling to be the one buying for once.

When their drinks are ready, he takes them to the table, slides off his coat and settles in the overstuffed armchair. And then he starts talking.

* * *

He talks about the woman who agreed to take them as far as they needed when they approached her at a gas station that first night, cold and terrified, with a Romeo-and-Juliet-esque story that moved her to tears. She wasn't much older than them, and not too bright, but she was kind and compassionate, and that was exactly what they needed, both shaken to the core with what they'd just done. She spent hours of the drive comforting Rachel, who had gone into a belated shock after the events on the bridge and was trembling uncontrollably. The woman – Angie – was driving to Canada with her whole life packed into her little car, and they stayed with her for two days, taking turns driving, and sleeping in the car when none of them could drive anymore. They said goodbye to her at dawn on the third day, standing on the outskirts of the first city of many – the first step of the long, scary road that would eventually lead them to New York.

He talks about starting with some money that melted away faster than they ever thought it would. About sleeping in cheap motels at first and eating decent, though basic food, but soon being forced to do things neither of them had ever thought of doing – seeking shelter in abandoned buildings or sleeping on park benches, eating whatever was cheapest and never enough. He tells Blaine about the days when there was nothing to eat at all and no money left, and looking through dumpsters behind restaurants no longer felt like something unimaginable. About the nights they held each other in some squats or ruins, listening to the rough night life just outside and praying to the gods they didn't believe in for the miracle of staying unnoticed. About that one night the miracle didn't happen and they barely escaped a bunch of drunk bikers looking for free entertainment.

He talks about starting with low expectations, but high standards – about earning money singing in bars and coffee shops, and then, as their appearance turned wilder and more disheveled, on the sidewalks in front of them, until people started taking them for beggars and shooing them away. He talks about tucking away their pride and doing anything that could earn them some money without revealing their identities – cleaning, helping out on construction sites, digging up gardens, holding signs, distributing leaflets. Anything but selling themselves, though they were both propositioned repeatedly. Sometimes they earned enough for cheap rooms where they spent a few weeks at a time before moving on. Sometimes they weren't so lucky and spent weeks living on the street. Always on the run, always afraid, more than once leaving within hours after seeing something or someone that made their paranoia flare up.

He talks about the doubt that crept in as time passed, about barely remembering what had been so bad in their golden prison where they'd had plenty to eat and safe, warm beds, and people who cared about them. About the long conversations when the cold kept them awake – wondering what would be their punishment if they returned, or if any punishment could be worse than this life.

He tells Blaine about the worst, bleakest days when there were no jobs for weeks, no money or shelter, when everything seemed lost and they didn't even care anymore, and about the miracle of finding an old, but working sewing machine by a dumpster one day. He recalls how sewing wasn't even the pleasure it had always been then – just a way to earn a few dollars and live another day, keep the spark of hope alive for a little longer. How that machine saved their lives – he bought used clothes in charity stores, the bigger the better, and used the fabrics to sew day and night while Rachel set up little street stalls and sold his creations. How for the first time in weeks they could afford enough food and a cheap, moldy room that felt like a palace.

He tells Blaine about the last city before New York, the one where they stayed for over three months and almost learned to love it. About the little old lady who saw them selling their mismatched collection of bags and headbands and bowties, and stopped to talk to them, and then came back the next day and offered them a room above her garage for next to nothing just because she felt they were good people in desperate need.

He talks about the time they lived there, longer than seemed prudent because they had no more fight in them to run again. How they managed to save enough money to find something cheap in New York, but by the time Kurt's birthday came, Rachel didn't want to go anymore, afraid to lose the little safety they finally had. How he barely managed to convince her, promising her security and time for herself and freedom to try for Broadway auditions, because his heart wouldn't stop calling for him to get here.

The rest of the tale is simple – arriving in the city, finding the loft through some really dumb luck, looking for legit jobs and going through dumpsters to furnish the apartment, and then working, working, working, hoping for something to change, to get better, for normal life to come at last.

* * *

By the time Kurt is done with the story, their cups are long empty and it's late – really late. Blaine's eyes are sad and soft when he asks Kurt if he wants to spend the night in his dorm room instead of going home, and Kurt is ready to just take his hand and say _yes. God, please, yes._

Except then Blaine starts explaining that his roommate is away again and Kurt can have Blaine's bed, and it's suddenly very clear they're not on the same page at all. Kurt thanks him and tells him not to worry, and then he gets on the train and swallows his tears the entire way home until finally letting them out in the shower where no one can see him cry. Because Kurt doesn't cry.

It's just so hard, even when it seems silly to feel this way.

He knows how incredibly lucky he is to have Blaine in his life again at all. He knows, and he's deeply grateful. Having him as a friend helped so much that miserable week and made the whole month different for Kurt – more focused, filled with things other than just work and sleep. All the time spent with Blaine, talking to him, sharing the secrets has awakened parts of Kurt's heart that had been dormant for a long time – the parts responsible for connections, hope and caring for other people besides Rachel and himself. For experiencing and feeling more than the bare minimum his emotional life had been reduced to, out of necessity.

Blaine woke Kurt up to life, made him feel and dream again. Gave him hope that maybe he could have his happy ending one day, however distant and improbable.

But Kurt's not delusional. He's far from forcing his feelings on anyone, and if he knew for sure friendship is all Blaine wants from him, he would understand and accept it, however painful it may be.

The problem is, Blaine doesn't seem to know what he wants himself.

In the last week, he has been increasingly confusing in his behavior around Kurt: Getting close only to move away. Touching Kurt's hand, knee, even face with the ease born from past intimacy, before jerking away as if burned a second later. Looking at him with warm, tender eyes and catching himself, deliberately getting his face under control.

It's frustrating and upsetting because Kurt doesn't have a way to know what it means, this hot and cold game that doesn't seem to be a game at all.

Are these just impulses left over from the time they were so much closer – muscle memory, unwelcome now that Blaine doesn't see Kurt romantically anymore? Is Blaine struggling with what he's feeling, unsure of it himself? It would be easiest to just ask, to talk about it openly and get to know where they stand and what to expect. But Kurt won't ask. He can't, not when he's only just gotten Blaine back at all. Their situation is still too fragile to shake the ground it's built on.

No, he'll manage. It's just hard when he could really use those arms to hide in sometimes.

* * *

**Chapter song: **_Safe and Sound _by Taylor Swift, cover by Megan Nicole and Tiffany Alvord

The next chapter will be posted on** Wednesday 02 October.**


	11. Chapter 8: Something's coming

**CHAPTER 8: Something's coming**

Thanksgiving isn't a big deal to Kurt and Rachel. Sure, it's better than last year, now that they actually have some things to be thankful for – they are alive, over eighteen, living in New York with a roof over their heads and actual jobs that put food on their table. They even have their best friend back in their lives. But Blaine is going home to his family and Kurt is working, so the day doesn't feel any different than usual. Gone are the days of crowded, loud Thanksgiving celebrations with the whole Harbor community over food-laden tables. It's just the two of them. Maybe they'll make something good for dinner. Maybe they will even buy some good meat and fresh vegetables if Kurt's tips are decent like they often are around the holidays. (Kurt's decision never to eat meat again, made after that hunting trip with Rachel's father, has long since been overridden by the necessity to eat whatever they could afford – or come by – on the run. Street life doesn't really come with easy vegetarian options.)

Kurt is walking out of the coffee shop a few minutes after six, making a mental list for a grocery run on his way home, when he narrowly avoids a collision with someone standing in the middle of the sidewalk – someone who catches him when he stumbles and says in a very familiar voice, "Whoa, hey, careful."

Kurt's Thanksgiving has just become a whole lot more special.

"Blaine?" His jaw drops at the sight. "What are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to go to Lima last night? What happened?"

"I changed my mind," Blaine replies, looking equal parts proud and bashful. "I decided my parents could stand not seeing me until Christmas, and they agreed. They have Cooper there this year, and I'm more needed here. No one should be alone on Thanksgiving."

Kurt slowly shakes his head as the understanding dawns. "Wait, you stayed in the city just so that you could spend tonight with _us_?"

Blaine bites his lip, suddenly unsure. "I… might have? But if you have other plans or don't want to spend it with me, just say the word and I'll have a little feast in my room instead."

It's only now that Kurt realizes Blaine is carrying a stuffed backpack, and there's a large bag standing by his leg on the sidewalk. He raises an eyebrow.

"Please tell me you didn't do what I think you did."

"Um." Blaine tugs on a strap, looking a little flustered. "Do you want me to lie?"

Kurt sighs. "No. But Blaine, we talked about this."

"I know. But it's Thanksgiving!" Blaine's face is so earnest and eager, Kurt can't help but smile. "Besides, I didn't bring _everything_. We still need green beans and mashed potatoes. See? I'm just chipping in a little."

Kurt actually snorts. "Oh, I see. In that case, we'd better go. There's dinner to be made."

He almost reaches for Blaine's hand in his suddenly buoyant mood, but catches himself in time. Friends. They're friends.

* * *

It turns out there isn't really much of the dinner left to make. When they get home, Blaine's heavy bag reveals a container with a small turkey that he bought already roasted, stuffing and all, and there's a jar of cranberries and a pumpkin pie from one of the classy New York bakeries there, too, everything carefully packaged and secured. They work on making the mashed potatoes and green beans together while Rachel sits on a counter and sings loudly with the radio, happy like Kurt rarely sees her anymore.

The dinner is delicious, the atmosphere truly special, but the best thing for Kurt is the feeling of not being alone. They truly matter to someone, for the first time in a long time.

They sit together on the couch after dinner, full and lazy. It's a tight fit for the three of them, but it feels good to be close, with Rachel tucked in between the two of them. The lights are off, only two tall pillar candles illuminating the space, and they are sipping spiced tea and talking leisurely about everything and nothing of importance. It's dark and cold outside, but in here, it's warm and safe and the most peaceful they've been in years. Kurt smiles so much his cheeks hurt, and it feels like he's floating, everything soft and fuzzy around him.

Like a gentle, quiet tide, there comes a thought: he's happy. Right here, in this one short evening, he has everything he needs. There's no weight of secrets on his shoulders anymore, no past dramas left to talk about. They are just three people who care about one another; three friends who had been through the worst and survived, their friendship still strong – maybe stronger for what they've faced. They are young and free and alive, and they can look into the future, whatever it may bring, with hope and courage.

He could wish for no better thing to be thankful for.

* * *

When Blaine leaves after ten, Rachel helps Kurt clean up, dancing around the kitchen with a song on her lips and a dish rag on her shoulder. He has his hands in the hot soapy dishwater when she suddenly hugs him tightly from behind.

"I've been thinking," she starts, standing on tiptoes to hook her chin over his shoulder. "What would you say if I asked you to pass your bakery job to me permanently?"

"What?" The plate slides from Kurt's fingers and back into the sink, forgotten. "Why?"

"I'm good at it, Mr. Patterson said so himself. He said that I brighten up the store and that the customers like me. And this way you could have the mornings for sewing. It pays better than the bakery and you love it."

"Rach–" Kurt isn't sure what to say. He's gotten so used to the thought that it's all on him that the prospect of her voluntarily taking over some of the burden is unexpected and overwhelming. "Are you sure?"

She smiles. "I am. There's a demand for your creations, you said so yourself, it's an opportunity you can't miss."

She's right. The man who bought the last batch on Etsy has asked about the possibility of regular supplies – Kurt just hasn't found a way to make it work yet.

"Besides," Rachel adds, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "You work too hard, this schedule is insane. I just realized tonight how long it's been since I last saw you relaxed and smiling. I want to help."

"I–" Kurt turns, not caring about the water dripping from his hands as he pulls her into a hug. "Okay. If you're sure, and if Mr. Patterson agrees. Thank you, Rach."

"Oh, he will agree. We'll ask him tomorrow and if he's okay with it, I can start on Monday."

The possibility of such a welcome shift in his schedule in just a few days is heady, and Kurt picks Rachel up and spins her around, his laugh slightly manic. "Oh my god, I love you."

"I love you too," she laughs. "But put me down, you silly boy, my shirt is soaked."

* * *

"Hi. Can I come in? It's absolutely freezing outside." Blaine's warm chuckle brings Kurt back from his reverie.

"Oh! Of course." He opens the door wider. "Sorry, I just haven't expected you."

Blaine has been so busy lately, studying for his semester finals, that they've only managed to meet twice in the two weeks since that wonderful Thanksgiving night. Talking on the phone every night is lovely, but it's not quite the same, so seeing Blaine here, pink from the cold and grinning, is the best kind of surprise. Except–

"I thought it was the acting group day today?"

Blaine has been attending with Rachel since that first time, wanting to make sure there was no funny business or danger for her there. His concern and care would be enough to make Kurt fall in love with Blaine if he hadn't already. Care, support, protection – after having to struggle by themselves for so long, these seem like the sexiest qualities. As if Blaine didn't have enough sexy qualities already.

Even his confused face is sexy as he pauses taking off his coat.

"Rachel didn't tell you? I stopped going last week. I couldn't spare the time anymore, with exams approaching, and I don't really need it, anyway. I hope you don't mind?" Blaine looks at him, anxious. "They are really okay, the people there. They are all older than Rachel and some are a bit weird, but not dangerous weird. Just, actor weird. She's safe. But I was sure she told you, I'm sorry, I should have–"

Kurt shakes his head. "No, it's okay, come on – you've done more than I could ever ask from you. I guess she just forgot to tell me. She's always so excited when she comes back, she can't stop talking about the people and the exercises they do. I guess finding all these new friends must be amazing for her. She's always been a people person."

"Unlike you?" Blaine gives him a fond smile as he takes off his boots.

"Unlike me." Kurt agrees. "Well, it's not that I _dislike_ people, I just prefer them in small doses. I guess I recharge my batteries at home, not in the crowd."

"Should I take it as a hint to leave you alone when you're tired? Are you tired now?" Blaine asks, only half-teasing, and Kurt has to smile.

"No. You're actually one of the few people I recharge perfectly well with. I'd even hazard a theory you speed up the recharging process."

Blaine snorts a short laugh. "Ooh, that sounds like an introvert's compliment. Thanks! I'm guessing Rachel is another of those?"

Kurt grins and gestures for Blaine to come into the kitchen. "Sometimes, it depends. She can be really draining some days when she doesn't know what to do with all of her energy. I'm glad she has the group now. It seems to make her happy."

"Yeah, she really shines there. And she gives her all, every time. You know how she is."

"I know how she is."

They share a knowing smile, and it's then that it hits Kurt.

If Rachel is at the acting group practice, she won't be home for hours. Which means he and Blaine are going to be alone. In private. Apart from the night of their reunion, it's the first time since that afternoon before the bridge. And the situation is very different now.

Holy shit.

* * *

It's not bad, at first. Kurt reheats yesterday's soup for them and they eat in friendly silence, the warmth spreading through their bellies. Then he insists he doesn't need help washing up and slowly cleans up the kitchen, unnecessarily scrubbing the clean sink and drying it thoroughly, wiping the counter, even going as far as sweeping the floor while Blaine tells him about his upcoming exams and preparations. But there's only so long he can pretend he's busy.

"Kurt?" Blaine has paused the story of his History of Theater professor and his weird teaching methods and is looking at him with amusement. "I'm pretty sure you already washed this pan. And it was clean then, too."

"Oh." Kurt rinses the offending dish, feeling like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar, his cheeks hot. "Yeah, I know, I noticed there was a spot left." He makes a show of scrutinizing the scratched surface carefully before nodding, feigning satisfaction. "Okay, done. Sorry. I get obsessive about cleaning sometimes. Coffee?"

Blaine raises from the stool he's been sitting on. "Let me."

"No, really, it's okay. I'll just put it on, it won't be a minute." He needs distractions, needs his hands occupied because who knows what they will do otherwise. He still remembers the last time alone with Blaine, the warmth of his skin, the firmness of the flesh under Kurt's clenching palms.

Which is not a thing he should be thinking about right now.

The coffee is ready all too soon and there's no choice but to sit down at last. Kurt perches on the couch, leaving the much more comfortable armchair for Blaine, but no, of course, he has to join him for some reason, unaware of Kurt's problem. The couch does its thing where the middle dips when there's more than one person on it, and they end up tilted towards each other with no way to move further away that wouldn't look impolite and awkward and–

Damn, Kurt is _so _not ready for this.

Blaine seems unaffected, though, completely oblivious to his discomfort. He curls his socked feet under himself and turns to face Kurt with that easy smile of his.

"So… I've been writing songs lately."

This distracts Kurt enough for his brain to focus on something other than reminding him how long he hasn't been touched and how amazing being in Blaine's arms felt.

"Really?" he asks with genuine surprise.

Blaine smiles bashfully. "Yeah. I haven't told anyone yet, you're the first, but… I think it's something I may become good at. If I practice enough, I mean. It's just… you know I've been playing all those instruments, right? I've been surrounded by music for so long that sometimes it's like I _think_ in music, you know? When I _feel_ enough, it translates to melodies somehow, and then it's easy to find the words, too, and– It's been happening a lot, lately. So I started to write them down. I'm not objective, obviously, but I think they're not bad. For the first try, I mean."

"Will you–" it feels too intimate somehow, but Kurt pushes on. "Will you ever show me? Sing something for me?"

Blaine blushes for some reason, his cheeks just slightly pink, but it looks adorable. "Yeah. I hope so. One day when I'm… when they're ready. To be shared."

"Okay." Kurt nods, still fascinated, only just realizing that while Blaine knows pretty much everything about them by now, Kurt doesn't really know as much about him as he'd want to. Yes, Blaine had always been the one more open and honest about himself, sharing with no holding back, but this was back then. Since they reconnected, Kurt and Rachel's story had overshadowed Blaine's. Sure, they talk and he shares enough about the present, but the truth is, Kurt knows almost nothing of what happened to Blaine in the time between their escape and their return.

He'll have to ask. Even if he's kind of afraid to know.

But right now is not the moment.

"Speaking of songwriting," Blaine looks unsure somehow, hesitant. "A few days ago I went and watched a recording of Glee Regionals from two years ago. You know, when you and Rachel sang your song," he adds when Kurt doesn't grasp the connection at first.

"_Oh_." Right. He's shocked to realize he'd forgotten all about it with everything that happened since then.

"Yeah. I knew there was a video but I'd never been able to watch it after you were gone. I just couldn't. But now I did. And Kurt – I just want to say I'm sorry."

"Why?" Kurt frowns, confused.

"Because that day, on that stage, it was the first time I really felt that something was wrong. And I did nothing to help you. I should have been able to do something. Maybe if I had, you wouldn't have had to–" Blaine's face looks tortured, and Kurt can't let him finish.

"Blaine, no." He grabs Blaine's hands and squeezes them firmly, not caring about what's proper between them for once. "Don't do this to yourself. You've done plenty. You were there for us, always. You cared. It made a huge difference. See? We're here. _That's_ how big a difference you made."

"But I should have been able to do _more_." It hurts Kurt to see even the shadow of what it must have been for the boy he loves. Even all this time later, it's still a wound that won't heal completely.

"There was nothing you could have done, though." He's still holding Blaine's hands, only now Blaine is squeezing back. "We were nowhere ready to tell you – or anyone – and nothing could have changed that. If you pushed, we would have had to distance ourselves. So really, Blaine, you did everything you could. And it turned out better than I had ever hoped."

Blaine doesn't say anything, just nods and takes a deep, shuddering breath, and there's a long silence where Kurt pretends not to see the way he fights the tears with his face turned away, gives him the option of not showing emotions if that's his choice. Sure, he would want nothing more than to pull Blaine into a hug, close enough for the sound of Kurt's heartbeat, real and alive, to comfort him, the ultimate proof of what a difference he made. But what would have felt perfectly natural two years ago, isn't anymore. Kurt feels too far out of his depth to reach out so strongly, and eventually Blaine's stuttering breath evens out and he turns back towards Kurt, his hands sliding away.

"Sorry," he sighs. "I might have listened to that song too many times in the last few days."

"I don't even remember it anymore," Kurt frowns, trying to recall anything more than the haunting feeling of pouring their hearts out in front of a full audience, none of which could really understand what they were singing about.

"Do you want to hear it?" Blaine pulls an iPod out of his bag. "I ripped the audio from the competition recording. It's not perfect, but the quality isn't bad."

It feels weird to hear him and Rachel sing, their voices carrying strongly in the vast auditorium. It's weirder still to hear the words, the way they resonate within him, so perfectly familiar and yet so distant, as if coming from beyond the grave.

In a way, they are.

_Will we ever have our happy ending  
Or will we forever only be pretending?_

The words hang in the silence when the song ends and Kurt smiles through tears that he hasn't noticed flowing down his cheeks.

No more pretending. And as to the happy ending… time will tell, but if you ask him, being alive and having a fighting chance of it is happy enough.

* * *

They listen to more songs after that – a few are from New Directions, but most are not. Blaine has a vast playlist of Broadway songs that Kurt finds with a little squeal – it's been so long since he listened to any of those. They have the old CD player, but their pitifully small CD collection comes mostly from clearance bins, and the music played at the coffee shop is just background noise he doesn't care too much about. So now, with Blaine's iPod on the couch between them in a chipped ceramic bowl to amplify the sound in the absence of speakers, it feels like revisiting favorite places from a long time ago. It's so easy to just sit and listen and chat, browsing through hundreds of songs and humming lines, even singing a little. He feels light and happy just sitting here with Blaine. Why did he fear it might be awkward?

Eventually, he makes a mistake though – he lets the conversation turn to his work and the orders from Paolo, the man from San Francisco who put Kurt's mix of accessories in his little kids' fashion boutique and now wants them as a regular line. Showing some of the ones he has ready is the next natural step and it isn't until they are standing in Kurt's bedroom where the boxes with his creations reside that Kurt realizes how intimate this feels. The space is small, the curtains separating it from the rest of the loft are drawn like they always are. They are standing right by Kurt's bed, so close together that he can feel Blaine's warmth, his breath ghosting over Kurt's skin every now and then, and whoa, he is _not_ ready for this.

They are alone. No people around, no Rachel to act as a buffer. Just the two of them in the empty apartment, and there's no denying the tension it raises between them. Kurt can't tell if it's attraction, the latent chemistry that was always sparking when they were close, or just awkwardness because of their past and the undefined nature of their relationship now. They end up losing their train of thought eventually, unfinished sentences hanging in the air as they just stare at each other. Blaine's eyes flick to Kurt's lips, and even though he doesn't do anything, suddenly one thing is clear: whatever Blaine feels or doesn't feel for him, he's still attracted to Kurt.

Which is a relief and a vindictive kind of satisfaction: so Kurt's not the only one.

Does Blaine think about him in _those_ moments? Like Kurt does in the too rare, stolen minutes in the shower or before sleep hits him, when his long-suppressed libido supplies pictures of Blaine's lips and hands, the memories of their intimate moments, as few as they were?

Or does Blaine have other pictures to get off to now?

Kurt doesn't know, but this train of thought when Blaine is standing just a foot from him and they are still alone is not a good idea. It would be too easy to lean in, into Blaine's arms, down to his lips. Kurt steps away rapidly, leaving Blaine with the little bowtie collection he'd just discovered and fleeing to the kitchen.

"More coffee?"

Rachel saves them, arriving moments later, in time to distract Kurt and keep him from the humiliation of throwing himself at his long-ago lover, and very possibly getting rejected.

* * *

The next time Rachel has the group practice, Blaine doesn't come over. But it's okay – he has exams after all, and Kurt is busy anyway, no time for obsessing about where they stand and what it means for him. He's spending every waking hour that isn't occupied with work at his machine, completing the latest order. It's paying well enough with Rachel's bakery money that they should have a decent Christmas this year, with a Christmas tree and a nice dinner, maybe even little presents.

Rachel seems happy, too. She likes the job, the acting group makes her more bouncy and hopeful than ever, and she's making friends. As December days fly by, ever nearer to Christmas, she even goes out with them twice after the practice. Kurt can't sleep until she's back safe and frowns when he smells liquor on her breath the second time, but overall he's glad that she has other people to talk to – people who probably understand her better in areas that Kurt has no patience for. He can't remember the last time when she had her own friends.

One snowy day, a week before Christmas, Blaine drops by the coffee shop for a few minutes, just to bring them a gift – an old laptop one of his friends intended to throw out after getting a new one. It's slow and a little banged up, but it works and it's the first computer they've had in years. Now if they can only get some cheap internet access, it will make life so much easier.

Blaine doesn't have time to stay, but he promises to come over for dinner before heading home for Christmas in a few days, and suddenly it's like two years ago: first Christmas with a new (though old, really) friend in their lives. No ideas for gifts. Warm fuzzy feelings in Kurt's heart whenever he thinks about Blaine.

Except this time, their Christmas won't include family, in the strictest sense nor as the community. There will be no formal, stiff family photos or forced smiles glued to their faces to cover the darkest thoughts.

It's the first Christmas to make truly theirs. To build something new. And Blaine is a part of it – part of their new family.

* * *

**Chapter songs: **_You Give Me Something _by James Morrison

The next chapter will be posted on** Saturday 05 October.**


	12. Chapter 9: Christmas came early

**CHAPTER 9: Christmas came early**

They have it all carefully planned. When Blaine comes over two days before Christmas, everything will be ready: the little tree set up and decorated with scraps of colorful fabrics, the food prepared, the candles lit–

But when the time comes, Kurt can only hope everything goes according to that plan. He wouldn't know, seeing as he's been stuck on the subway for the last hour, after a man – either drunk or suicidal – fell on the tracks just in front of his train.

Kurt's sympathetic, of course, and a little shaken, but mostly, he just wants to go home. They should be eating their faux-Christmas dinner with Blaine right now, spending their last precious hours together before his departure to Lima. Instead, Kurt is sitting here in a crowd of annoyed people and he can't even call and let them know what's going on, let alone instruct Rachel on everything she needs to do to put the finishing touches to their food. He'd prepared it all so carefully, but how can he make it perfect when he's not there?

When Kurt finally runs up the stairs to their loft, he's winded and anxious, but he pauses as he reaches the door. There's music coming from the apartment, two familiar voices singing _Santa Claus Is Coming To Town _at the top of their (very capable) lungs. He quietly slides the door open and stops in the doorway, just watching the scene before him with a growing smile.

Rachel has set the table right next to the Christmas tree, and even with their mismatched collection of dishes and the simple paper and fabric ornaments on the tree, it looks spectacular. There's a white tablecloth on the table, the four red candles in the evergreen centerpiece are already lit, and the air is filled with delicious smells from the kitchen.

And then there are these two people, so dear to him that the wave of affection almost chokes Kurt as he watches them silently. Blaine is sitting on the couch with a guitar on his knees, Rachel shaking a rice container for lack of bells and twirling around, and they are both so lost in the song that they don't even notice the draft from the open door. They sound amazing together, so carefree and joyful, like in their best Lima moments.

And then Blaine looks up from his guitar and notices Kurt, and the song stops as they both put away their instruments, matching delighted smiles on their faces.

It really feels like coming home.

* * *

Kurt isn't used to alcohol – he'd only drank a couple of times – and even the first glass of red wine that Blaine brought is enough to give him a pleasant buzz. The conversation, lively to begin with, gets more and more animated as they go through dinner and the bottle. Rachel's cheeks are flushed and she's even more giggly than ever, and Blaine seems more affectionate, less careful with his closeness and touches. Kurt just feels happy and warm, at peace with the world.

And then it turns out they have _another _bottle, something pink and sweet to go with the dessert – or so the senior who bought them for Blaine said – so it's really no wonder that soon, the guitar and the rice box make a comeback, and they end up going through every Christmas song they can remember. There's _Jingle Bells_ and _All I Want for Christmas Is You_, _The Most Wonderful Day of The Year_ and even _Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer_. At some point, Rachel starts singing _Last Christmas_, but stops as soon as she sees Blaine's face falling and Kurt trying to strangle her with his glare. It hits too close to home for them.

She's quieter after that, leaving them to sing a playful version of _Baby It's Cold Outside_ together, which she emphatically declares to be the best one she's ever heard, but by the time they're done with _Let It Snow_, she's bouncing again, looking out the window.

"Guys, it really _is _snowing! Come see!"

Indeed, it's coming down heavily, the view obscured with the thick white flakes flying everywhere, blown around by the sudden wind. Blaine looks at his watch, reality setting back in.

"Oh, wow. It's midnight already, I have to go."

Rachel looks at him, worried. "Now? In this blizzard?"

Blaine shrugs. "Well, I have to catch some sleep before my flight tomorrow. And it's not that bad. The snow shouldn't be a problem on the subway, anyway. I'll be fine."

"Can't you stay the night?" Kurt finds himself saying without really thinking it over. "I mean, it's late and the weather–" he bites his lip as his mind catches up with his mouth. But it's too late to take it back.

Blaine raises his eyebrows.

"I _could_, it would definitely be preferable to the hike home, but are you sure it wouldn't be a problem?"

"Not in the slightest," Kurt lies. Beside him, Rachel is nodding enthusiastically.

And so it's settled. Kurt finds a spare toothbrush for Blaine and something to sleep in, and then spends the time Blaine needs to shower and change trying not to panic. Because truth be told, there _is _a problem.

Their couch is unfit to sleep on. For one thing, it's small, but with Blaine being on the short side, he would manage if it was just that. But it's also hard and uneven, sagging terribly in the middle, and the one time Kurt accidentally fell asleep there, his back hurt for a week. They can't possibly make Blaine sleep there. They didn't invite him to stay over so that he could get some knots in his back.

There's only one possible solution.

"Rach, I'm gonna sleep with you tonight."

It won't be comfortable – both of their beds are narrow, just simple twin beds, but they will survive. They slept in much worse conditions before New York.

Except Rachel looks at him with a perfectly surprised expression. "Oh. You can't, I'm on my period."

Damn actress.

Kurt rolls his eyes – like that ever mattered – but she shakes her head. "No, really. I need room, I have to curl up, it helps my cramps. Besides, I've gotten used to sleeping alone. I mean… Blaine, you won't mind sleeping with Kurt, will you?"

Of course Blaine had to choose this moment to come back from the bathroom. He looks between them, clearly caught off guard. "I… no, of course not."

Okay, it would be completely justified to strangle your sister when she's being a Machiavellian brat, right?

Kurt glowers at Rachel, getting only a wide grin in return, before turning to Blaine. "Are you sure? I could sleep on the couch."

Blaine has already found his footing though and is smiling brightly. "Oh please, I know that couch is a medieval torture device. And it's always nice, sleeping with someone."

"Great!" Rachel says brightly. "Goodnight then. Just remember I'm here, will you? No wild sex please." She ducks, shrieking with laughter when Kurt grabs a pillow from the couch and throws it at her. And then she disappears behind her curtain, and there's only the two of them.

* * *

Kurt takes his time in the shower, nervous and quietly hoping that Blaine will be asleep by the time he gets to bed. It would make this night so much easier – not that it's going to be easy either way, with Blaine's body so close for hours. They only had the chance to sleep together once – those two nights in the hotel at Nationals – and they had to keep a respectable distance in the large bed then so as not to give anyone reason to suspect there was anything between them. This time, there's no chance for distance even if they wanted it.

Kurt wonders if Blaine has slept with anyone else in the time they were apart. The jealousy that claws deep in his chest at the thought doesn't make it easier to go join him at all.

Of course, when he finally does, Blaine isn't asleep at all.

"Hi," he whispers when Kurt slips under the covers. He's lying on his side, facing Kurt – not that there is much room for any other position for either of them – and even in the darkness, his golden eyes shine and crinkle in a smile.

It's hot under the comforter, so hot where their knees and thighs brush in the process of settling in, even with their hips and torsos kept carefully apart. But it's impossible not to touch without falling off the bed, so eventually, between whispered apologies and stifled giggles, they end up with their hands touching where they lie between their bodies and their legs entwined. Blaine's warm breath ghosts over Kurt's lips with every exhale. He smells like toothpaste and Kurt's body wash. It's ridiculously appealing.

Kurt closes his eyes. Sleep isn't going to happen any time soon, he knows, but the alternative is talking, and if they do that right now, right here, he's pretty sure his heart will spill out and he'll end up pleading for another chance. No, pretending to sleep is an infinitely better option.

He waits for what feels like hours before opening his eyes, the temptation to just watch Blaine while he sleeps too great to fight any longer. But he's not the only one wide awake.

"Kurt."

It's the faintest whisper, and then there are fingers, warm and calloused, intertwining with his own on the shared pillow. Over the pounding of his own heart Kurt can hear the hitch in Blaine's breathing. He's not sure which of them moves, but suddenly they are even closer, and it's instinct, taking the hand that is trapped uncomfortably between their chests and putting it on Blaine's waist over the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

Blaine lets out a quiet, broken sound and then there are his lips, hot and urgent, pressing against Kurt's.

The world stops. So does Kurt's heart, he's pretty sure, if only for a second before he kisses back, pouring all of his longing and love into the feverish press of their lips. He's thought about this so many times. Remembered it, craved it, dreamed about it. Kissing Blaine was always amazing. But now it's even better, because Kurt had lost the right to it, he'd left, believing he'd never get to kiss Blaine again.

And now they're here.

Blaine pulls away after too short a moment, breathless and wide-eyed, and Kurt whines helplessly, barely resisting the need to follow his lips. But Blaine just asks, "Okay?", and with a fervent nod from Kurt, he's back, kissing deeper, more passionately, opening his mouth just a fraction, an invitation. And Kurt dives into the kiss like he would into cool water after a long, hard journey through blistering desert heat.

They don't resurface for hours. Their bodies are pressed close, their blood simmering, but they do nothing more than kiss and hold hands and kiss and hold each other and just breathe each other in, close, close, so close at last. When Kurt finally falls asleep, just floating away in the safe, solid embrace of Blaine's arms, their lips are still brushing.

* * *

The first time he wakes up the next morning, it's still dark and Rachel is peeking into his bedroom, her hand pressed against her grinning lips, holding in the rest of the tiny squeal that startled him awake. She's in her coat and hat, on the way to work no doubt, and normally Kurt would get up now, to spend the morning at the sewing machine. But today it's different. Today, Blaine's shoulder is warm under his cheek, Blaine's arm wound possessively around his waist even as he sleeps on with his lips red and parted, his hair in soft curls over his forehead and his beautiful face utterly peaceful.

No, today is not a day to get up early. Kurt closes his eyes and floats again.

The second time he wakes up, it's a few hours later and he's alone. He springs out of bed, already cursing himself for not noticing Blaine getting up and hoping with all his might he hadn't left entirely yet.

But no, he's there. Sitting on a stool in their kitchen, already back in his clothes and with a cup of coffee in his hand, Blaine looks like he belongs here, like he should be here every morning to greet Kurt with this warm smile.

"I thought you left." Kurt is surprised at how breathless he sounds, but it's not that strange, really – his heart is going a mile a minute and his stomach is full of butterflies awakened with the memory of last night.

Blaine stands up and crosses the kitchen to the coffee maker. "Without saying goodbye? Or giving you your Christmas present?" he says and puts a cup of fresh coffee in front of Kurt. "I wouldn't."

"Oh, right!" Kurt shakes his head. He'd forgotten in all the fun and excitement of last night. "Presents! I have something for you too. Well, it's from both of us. But I chose it," he can't resist adding. He's feeling giddy and light this morning, feels like teasing and flirting because now, he can. He finally knows.

The gift, wrapped in silver paper, is waiting under the Christmas tree, so Kurt skips over there to fish it out and hands the small package to Blaine, and then bites his lip as he watches him unwrap it carefully. It was a challenge to choose it, to come up with something meaningful and thoughtful that they could afford, something not saying too much, not implying the level of closeness Kurt wasn't sure of, yet. There's a bowtie in one of Kurt's boxes, made lovingly from some Superman-patterned fabric with Blaine in mind. But Blaine had already received a bowtie from him once – along with the cookie recipe, it was the only gift Kurt had ever given him, back in school, for their only Valentine's Day together. It felt not only unimaginative, but too personal now, to give him another. So he came up with this instead.

Blaine grins when he opens the simple black notebook, clean blank pages on the left, staff lines just waiting to be filled with melodies and harmonies on the right.

"Wow, thank you, Kurt. I didn't realize Moleskine makes music notebooks. This is perfect. I always seem to have the best song ideas when I'm out and about, with nothing but some scraps and napkins to write on." He gets to the little note tucked between the pages, a simple red card filled with Kurt's handwriting, and smiles as he reads it. His eyes are soft when he looks at Kurt. "I'm not sure if there will be any hit songs from me any time soon, I don't even know if I'm any good, but thank you for having faith in me."

"Always." Kurt breathes. He wants to hug Blaine now, already missing the closeness they shared, but they're separated by the table and Blaine is reaching to his bag standing on the floor. The hug can wait.

"Now, this might seem like an impersonal gift," Blaine says, pushing a simple red envelope across the table with a self-conscious smile. "But believe me, it isn't. I've been thinking for days, but I just couldn't decide. It didn't seem fair to take the choice away from you." He bites his lip as Kurt carefully cuts he envelope open with a clean knife. "This is for both you and Rachel, I hope she doesn't mind she's not here to–"

"Blaine." Kurt gasps as a single colorful sheet of glossy paper slides out of the envelope, a gift coupon. The value printed on top makes his eyes go wide. "Oh god, this is too much, we can't–"

Blaine catches his hands that have already started to slide the paper back to him. His eyes are earnest and intense. "Yes, you can. You've never seen a Broadway show. I want you to be able to experience it now that you're really here in New York. I was thinking of just getting you the Wicked tickets, but I wasn't sure if there isn't another show you'd rather see, or when you are both free to go, so I decided on this instead."

"But it's so expensive…" Kurt knows his face is flushed; his little gift seems so puny in comparison.

"I calculated it based on Wicked prices. And I didn't look at the most expensive seats, I promise. I know how you feel about me buying things for you. But please, Kurt. It's a Christmas gift. I want you two to go, feel the magic, have some fun."

The warmth of Blaine's hands is steadying, his eyes like a pleading puppy's, and Kurt finds himself giving in. "Okay. Oh god, Rachel will be over the moon. _I _will be over the moon once I recover from shock, thank you so much, Blaine. Will you go with us?"

Blaine's smile is dazzling. "With pleasure."

* * *

There isn't much time to talk after that; Blaine needs to run, finish packing his bag and get to the airport. The snow had stopped falling some time during the night and though there's a white cover over everything, the air is clear and the clouds don't threaten with more precipitation. He should be able to get home tonight just fine.

The thought of not seeing each other for ten days makes Kurt's heart ache, but after last night, it's a different ache than he expected when thinking about it even just yesterday. It's the sweet ache of longing to start something new, to step into the next chapter of their relationship when Blaine gets back. He can't wait to to actually talk about it, to shape and decide things between them, to take their sweet time discovering what it means to be together, without hiding this time. Out in the open.

But he needs a little more patience still. There's no time today for anything more than a quick goodbye kiss before Blaine leaves.

Except… when Blaine pulls him close, already in his coat and all ready to go, he doesn't lean up to Kurt's lips. He just hugs him, short and tight, and kisses his cheek, and then he's out the door with the last _Merry Christmas_ on his lips, leaving Kurt confused in the doorway.

* * *

**Chapter song: **_Irresistible _by One Direction

The next chapter will be posted on** Monday 07 October.**


	13. Chapter 10: Happy New Year?

**CHAPTER 10: Happy New Year?**

There wasn't time, Kurt decides. If they kissed again, they wouldn't have wanted to stop, and with a plane to catch in a few hours, Blaine just couldn't afford this kind of distraction. That's all. But the night was real – the sweet caress of Blaine's hand cupping his cheek, Blaine's lips and his body so close, so clearly showing what he wanted. And he wanted Kurt. Not just as a friend. There was no doubt about it.

There just wasn't time to talk about it afterwards, and so Kurt has to be patient just for a little bit longer, until Blaine comes back on January 2 and they can have a proper heart to heart.

He can do this.

* * *

xXxXx

_Blaine can't do it. He can't, his heart beating out of his chest as he runs down the stairs, trying to keep the rising panic at bay even as he keeps his smile plastered on his face. Away from Kurt in the doorway with his hopeful, confused expression, out into the cold fresh air. The need to run is ridiculous. Blaine forces himself to walk to the subway at a normal, if brisk, pace._

_It seemed so easy, in the darkness, with the soft warm buffer of alcohol and music and happiness. It felt so natural to have Kurt in his arms and kiss him like he's wanted to every day since Kurt knocked on his dorm room door. And it was so good, the way it's never been with anyone else. The way Blaine is pretty sure it will never be with anyone but Kurt. Because with Kurt, it's just… right. His body hums with the lightest touch, his heart is at peace, content. Happy._

_This night was perfect. _

_It was also a mistake._

_Because now, faced with the possibility of getting back what they had before, Blaine has realized how unprepared he is to make himself so vulnerable again, to put his heart back in Kurt's hands. _

_Kurt. The boy he loves. The boy who already broke him once._

_If he were to do it again, Blaine is sure he wouldn't survive. There would be nothing left to pick up and glue back together, like he did the first time. If Kurt were to be with him now, openly and truly, and then decide Blaine isn't what he wants or needs – if now, in different circumstances, in a real relationship Kurt realizes he doesn't feel for him what his younger self did… Everything in him recoils at the memory of the pain. _

_He wants Kurt, more than anything he ever wanted. He wants to trust him. _

_But he can't. He's not brave enough._

xXxXx

* * *

The actual Christmas celebration at Kurt and Rachel's is nice, but subdued somehow without Blaine and his guitar, and with too many memories crowding in instead. They can't help but wonder what their parents are doing now, how they have been managing. Kurt tries not to think about it most of the time, and he knows Rachel does too, but holidays and other special occasions like birthdays always bring it back, this baggage of guilt that weighs them down.

What would their parents do if they learned they are alive? Would they reveal it to the rest of the community? And if they did, what would be the consequences?

One day they may take this step. But not yet.

The remaining December days trickle slowly – sewing and work and sleep, again and again. Blaine texts often and calls every night as usual, but their conversations are short and never veer beyond the friend zone. Not that it's too surprising – they can't really have the big, important conversation about that night and their feelings over the phone, can they?

Even the evenings are quiet, with Rachel spending time with her new actor friends nearly every day now. There's a big New Year's party they are throwing, and Rachel asks Kurt if he would like to go with her, but he doesn't feel like it. A crowd of strangers crammed in some apartment, with loud music and a sea of alcohol is not really his idea of fun. He tells her to go though, and then he spends the evening drinking cranberry juice and reading a book, pointedly _not _waiting for Blaine's texts from the New Directions Veterans' party. He watches the fireworks from the fire escape and then comes back in from the cold, burrows in his warm bed and falls asleep hoping for a new year that will be so much better than the last two.

* * *

Rachel doesn't come home until noon the next day, and when she does, Kurt frowns at the state she's in. Her make-up is smudged, her coat open and scarf off despite the bitter cold outside, and she has a dark hickey on her neck that makes him bristle, the protective instinct kicking in.

"Did you just go all through New York like this? Are you crazy? It's freezing!"

But she just gives him a bright smile, looking so giddy and happy that Kurt's worry deflates somewhat. "Oh, no, a friend gave me a lift. It was warm in his car. Hi Kurt!"

She bounces over to him like a manic, affectionate puppy, and it's only when she's up close hugging him tight that he realizes her breath smells of alcohol so strongly it could probably catch fire. Frowning, he pushes her gently away until she's at arm's length and looks her over carefully.

"Jeez, are you still drunk?"

She gives him a coy, mischievous smile. "Maybe a little?" She dances the few steps to the kitchen sink and nearly trips over her own heels. "Oops. Maybe a little more."

Kurt walks over to her and pours her a glass of water. She downs half of it with a moan. Kurt shakes his head.

"Did you sleep at all?"

She giggles. "Nope. There was too much fun to sleep. But I–" she breaks and takes another sip of water.

"You what?"

"I– think I'll shower and go to bed. I'm exhausted." She gives an exaggerated yawn, kicks off her heels and heads to the bathroom.

When she exits fifteen minutes later, there's no sign of that seductive girl who left for the party last night. She's in her purple flannel pajamas and fuzzy socks, her tired face clean and pink, and her hair gathered in a loose braid that flows halfway down her back. Kurt follows her to the bedroom and watches as she settles on her side, curled under the covers.

"Do you need anything?"

Her eyes are already drooping, but she still smiles and Kurt's heart warms fondly. "Some more water would be lovely," she says.

When he returns with the glass, Rachel's eyes are closed, but her hand catches his when he leans down to kiss her forehead. "Cuddle with me?"

"Okay."

No matter how much time passes or where they are, this will always feel like home – the closeness between them that doesn't have anything to do with intimacy really, and everything with safety and protection. Kurt settles behind her over the covers and spoons her, causing a purr of delight.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Rachel says in a sleepy murmur after a while of silence. "I'm not a virgin anymore."

Kurt finds himself up on his elbow before he has time to process it. "What?"

She turns to him, smiling sheepishly. "I… had sex last night?"

Something dark and feral growls in Kurt's chest. "With whom?"

"Just, a guy."

"_Just a guy_?" Kurt can almost hear his teeth grind. She's saying it so lightly.

"Yeah. His name was Tristan."

That gets a disbelieving snort out of Kurt. "Really. Is that one of your friends from the group?"

"No, we only met last night." A defensive note starts to steal into Rachel's voice. She sounds much more sober now. "We danced half the night and then there was kissing and– I _wanted_ him, Kurt. There was so much chemistry between us, it was crazy. So we found an empty bedroom and we did it."

Kurt doesn't really know what to say, so he just sits there, staring at her, his mouth agape. Who is this girl and what did she do with his hopeless romantic of a sister? Rachel starts to squirm under his stare, trying to pull the comforter up to her chin and failing, because he's sitting on it. So she bites her lip instead and quirks a little smile.

"Hey, I lost my virginity on New Year's Eve. There were fireworks," she jokes, but Kurt can see she's unnerved by his reaction.

Well what did she expect?

He finds his voice eventually. "I just. I can't believe you just did it like that."

This makes her bristle. "You're one to talk. You were sixteen when you slept with Blaine, weren't you?"

"Well yes," Kurt frowns. How can she even compare that? "But we had been in a relationship for months before we had sex, we _knew _each other, _cared _for each other. And if the circumstances had been different, we would have probably waited longer to get there. Don't you see the difference?" He huffs a disbelieving breath. "Are you and… _Tristan_ dating now?"

Rachel glares at him. "No. We both agreed it was a one-time thing. We had a fun night, he drove me home and that's that."

Kurt has a strong urge to facepalm. "Was he at least sober when he sat behind the wheel?"

"Yes." She sounds offended. "I wouldn't have gotten in a car with a drunk man."

Like she would have even noticed in her state. "Did you use protection?"

"Of course we did. God, Kurt, please stop treating me like a child," she snaps. "I'm a strong single woman, free to own my sexuality. I've been told for years that my virginity was some sacred untouchable thing; now I can finally make the decisions about my body."

"So you go and give it up to the first guy who's interested? Way to go, how very liberated of you."

For a moment, she looks like she's about to slap him, then decides otherwise, her face set in an angry frown.

"Why, are you jealous? It was yours to take, after all. Was I supposed to keep my pure and untouched status for you even after we escaped? Even when you didn't want it?" Her voice is hard, vicious now.

"What? Of course not, come on." Kurt rolls his eyes. "It's just… I love you, Rach. I don't want to see you hurt," he says in a softer voice.

He takes her hand and she doesn't jerk it away. That's something at least.

"Well I guess adulthood comes with hurt whether we want it or not," she says. "And I need to find my way, start controlling my life at last. I can't stay under your wing forever." When Kurt doesn't answer, she shoots him a mischievous grin. "And the sex was _awesome_. So say what you want. And now I really need to sleep."

Kurt sighs and settles back behind her to snuggle for a while. But even as her breath evens out and her body slumps against him in a way that has been so familiar for years, he can't shake off the feeling that something has just changed forever.

* * *

When Blaine comes back, it's nothing like any of the countless scenarios Kurt has been imagining in his absence. Yes, he does call him the moment he's back in his dorm room. Yes, he wants to meet the very same night, after Kurt's shift ends. But he asks for Rachel to be there, too.

Well, maybe he just wants her to witness them getting back together? Maybe they don't need to talk about it, or at least not just yet – maybe it will simply happen, a kiss hello or their hands joined as they walk?

Whatever it is, Kurt needs it to happen _yesterday_.

What he gets instead is Blaine, very happy to see them both, hugging them hello and announcing that he'd come up with an _amazing_ plan to… start exploring the city together. They should do it properly, he insists – the touristy spots and the locals' perspective, finding places to call their own and making new memories. They were all too busy to do much of it in the first months of living here, so now is the time. So what if neither of them has much free time, or that it's cold and the snow has mostly melted, leaving behind dirty sludge? It will be fun. They can do it together. Friends! Yay!

Kurt has to fight a violent urge to groan.

And yes, of course it's fun. All through January, they meet two or three times a week and wander the streets until their legs hurt and their noses go numb and runny in the cold. Sometimes, especially on Sundays, they do it in the morning, but usually they start at Kurt's Starbucks around seven or eight in the evening, and then move to whatever destination or route Blaine has thought up this time, no matter that it's dark and cold and late. More often than not, they don't get home until midnight. And yes, New York is breathtaking and Kurt loves to see all the various sides of it. But for some reason finding new places to see and new routes to walk has become the main thing on Blaine's mind since he came back from Lima.

They don't talk about _that night_. Or about feelings of any kind. Not even when Rachel isn't with them. Even then, Blaine doesn't move an inch beyond being the utterly charming, caring and perfect friend.

It's hard because it's so confusing, and sometimes it makes Kurt want to scream, not knowing where they stand. He was so sure, that night before Christmas. He was positive he knew the look in Blaine's eyes and the heat in his kisses. But now, he knows nothing again.

It doesn't help that things are shaky at home, too. Rachel is on a mission to "challenge herself and work towards her goals", which translates to a lot of late night absences, club visits and parties with her new friends who, Kurt suspects, are not that good of an influence on a naïve girl like her. They fight about it too often – Rachel insisting she's just being young and free like she never could before, and Kurt claiming she's getting in over her head, drinking and partying, and, he suspects, hooking up, though she never tells him anymore if she does. They can't really afford the lifestyle she's leading now, even with the regular money from Kurt's sewing, but somehow, she always finds ways to go out with the others without making a noticeable dent in their budget.

But it's not all bad. There are days when they still enjoy each other's company. There are nights, like seeing _Wicked_ with Blaine, when the magic and wonder of being here in New York hits them right between the eyes and all they can do is to be thankful for what they have. There are times when Kurt realizes no one will ever know him as well as Rachel does.

"You've never told him how you feel, have you?" she asks one night after Kurt comes back from yet another evening with Blaine, frustrated with the heartache of having him so close, and yet so distant. "You haven't taken my advice at all, with that song. You found him, but you never told him."

"No," he admits, and he doesn't have to explain. With one look, she knows he doesn't want to talk about it, knows that warm milk with a bit of nutmeg will soothe him best. She knows to come to his bed and curl with him and ramble about small unimportant things that have nothing to do with Blaine until he falls asleep.

She's difficult sometimes, but Kurt doesn't know what he would do without her.

* * *

"Come on, it will be fun." Blaine is sitting on a high stool in their kitchen as Kurt sews yet another mini messenger bag from colorful suede with contrasting thread. He finishes the neat, even stitching and looks up at Blaine.

"I told you, I'm not a fan of parties. Especially when I don't know anyone."

This doesn't seem to discourage Blaine. "But you will know _me_. And it's not a big party, just some people from my study group. Please? You never get to have any fun or meet new people. I'd love to have you there."

Kurt could tell him that he has plenty of fun with him and Rachel, and that he meets new people constantly at work and it's exhausting, but it would be pointless. He can't resist those amber eyes and the pleading tone anyway.

So instead, he sighs internally, smiles as honestly as he can and agrees to go.

Which leads to this evening, and really, if Kurt were to choose a torture, he could hardly pick a more effective one.

The party is in an apartment rented by four of Blaine's college friends. It's quite big by New York standards, and there is just over a dozen people attending, which makes it pretty manageable, just like Blaine promised. It's definitely not one of those college bashes Kurt hears students talk about in the coffee shop sometimes – loud and crowded, with alcohol flowing freely and everyone making out with everyone else. When he and Blaine come in, some people are sitting around talking, some are playing video games, a few dance to the loud, but not deafening music, and everyone seems to be having fun. There's beer and wine coolers available, and some stronger alcohol for mixing, but no one seems to be on their way to getting violently drunk. Blaine stays by Kurt's side most of the time, mindful of his discomfort, and everyone is quite nice and welcoming, and yet–

And yet Kurt hasn't felt this miserable in a group of people for a long time.

It's nothing in particular – just a mix of things he hears and sees, and the thoughts it gives him. The questions about what he studies, where he works, what his career plans are, and the stares he gets when he answers truthfully, though without much detail. The conversations about school projects and performances, excited chatter about vacations and summer internships and plays that will be performed this semester. Involved discussion about stage techniques, with names and inside jokes flying around as Kurt sits around, feeling dumb. Dramatic stories of life-changing problems that include a failed exam and a dilemma about a boob-job that could potentially forward or ruin someone's acting career.

And the longer he sits there, the more out of place he feels.

What has he been thinking, expecting Blaine to want to go back to what they had for those fleeting months back in high school? They were just kids then, naïve sixteen-year-olds in Ohio.

This is New York, and Blaine is in college, surrounded by talented, interesting people with well-rounded lives and bright futures, with money and common passions and shared experiences. He's well liked and popular among his peers, and Kurt is pretty sure the curvy blond girl has a wild crush on him, along with her beautiful, redhead friend who looks like a model. They both spend half the party openly flirting with Blaine, who never once says anything to discourage them – on the contrary, he seems to bloom under the attention he's getting. From his observation perch in the corner, Kurt can see a boy with dimples eyeing them sulkily. He has a feeling it's not because he'd like to pick up the girls himself. It's not them he's watching like a hawk.

How could Kurt have not realized until now? Of course Blaine would be a college heartthrob, of course he would shine so bright here where he can spread his wings and show the whole world his talents, his kindness and beauty.

He's so out of Kurt's league it's not even funny.

What does Kurt have to offer him? Uneducated, dull, poor, with a shattered life that he's trying to rebuild from the ground up – really, he should be grateful that Blaine is so generous with his time and his friendship, and let go of his silly notions and expectations.

So they kissed. So what? It was probably just for old times' sake, reliving nice memories. They're both single, as far as Kurt knows. A little kissing doesn't have to mean anything. Even if it meant the world to Kurt.

He excuses himself from the party before midnight, claiming to have a headache and a lot of work early in the morning. Blaine offers to walk him to the subway, but Kurt tells him to stay – it's not that far and there's no need for him to leave early, too.

And then he goes home and, for the first time glad that Rachel is out late again, he cries himself to sleep like a lonely, helpless child.

* * *

**Chapter songs: **_Overprotected _by Britney Spears

_Just Good Friends_ by Fish

_ Creep _by Radiohead

* * *

The next chapter will be posted on** Wednesday 09 October** (oh look, I'll be serving fic on my birthday! who's bringing cake and wine instead? :P)**.**


	14. Chapter 11: Earthquakes

**A/N:** _Thank you so much for all the lovely birthday wishes, I've been smiling so much tonight that my face hurts :D I have the sweetest readers and friends in the world! *hug* _

_A bit of admin info: we've decided not to post the next chapter on Saturday this time, to give ourselves – and you – time to breathe after tomorrow's Glee episode. We'll be back on Monday._

* * *

**CHAPTER 11: Earthquakes**

"Have you been with anyone since we left?"

They are sitting in a tiny teahouse, warming their hands on the large rounded cups, when Kurt finally manages to ask the question that has been on his mind since the party last week.

Blaine doesn't meet his eye, stirring sugar into his Earl Grey.

"Yes." He answers finally, his voice quiet. "Several people."

"Oh." That's all Kurt is able to say, a stray sound punched out of him with nothing more than quiet words. It sounds strangled.

Blaine finally looks up, his eyes intense. "Kurt, you have to understand, I thought you were gone."

Somehow, this hurts even worse. He was replaced that fast? Even before Blaine got the message letting him know that they were alive?

Blaine seems to have realized where Kurt's thoughts went. "No, I mean, I knew you were out there somewhere. I knew you were alive, but it was so long since I heard from you. I thought you were gone for good, gone from _me_, never to come back. I was just trying to start _living_ again, _Kurt_–"

Kurt nods, swallows through the pain that has lodged itself firmly in his throat. "No, it's okay. You didn't owe me anything. I left. I was as good as dead, what were you supposed to do? Wait forever? I'm… I'm glad you moved on."

"I'm not." It's barely more than a hoarse whisper. Blaine's hands are tight around the cup. "And I didn't. Not really."

"What?" It takes a surprising amount of effort to ask this one tiny question.

Blaine takes a shaky breath. "I was never over you. I'm still not."

It's as if the world slowed down, Kurt's heart beating in slow motion while he just looks at Blaine. Wide, earnest eyes. His eyebrows minutely drawn, the tension in his jaw. His hand twitching around the cup.

In the depth of his confusion, Kurt finds his voice. "So… what does that mean? For us?"

Apparently, he was right not to let himself hope yet because Blaine's face just _crumbles_. "Nothing. I… Kurt, I _can't_. I'm sorry."

"I don't understand."

"I want us to go back to what we had. I _want_ to be able to just take your hand and be with you, if you let me. I want it so _bad_, Kurt. But I'm terrified." Blaine's hand is clenched so hard that his fingertips are white. Kurt reaches to gently relieve him of the cup and squeeze his hand instead. Eyes locked on their joined palms, Blaine says in a tight voice, "I'm too scared I'll lose you again. That you will disappear one day, or simply decide I'm not the right person, and I will have to grieve all over again. And I don't think I can do it."

_Oh._

"Blaine. Blaine, look at me." Kurt waits until Blaine's eyes focus on his before saying, softly, but with all the certainty he feels, "I love you."

There, it's long overdue, but it's out. And Blaine is looking at him in shock.

* * *

xXxXx

_It hits Blaine like a punch, these words he'd been hoping to hear from Kurt one day, back in what feels like another life. And now it's here, a real and deliberate confession, not a fever-induced murmur that could be anything. This moment should feel perfect and moving, it should vanquish any doubts Blaine has._

_But instead, all he can think of is that one morning long ago when he nearly flew to school, feeling light and happy and filled with the overwhelming need to finally say those words to Kurt – only to find out that there was no Kurt anymore. That he had _died_, _killed himself_,_ _and no amount of tears or screaming into space or bargaining with fate could bring him back. No amount of love, either._

_And even though the miracle did happen, after all – even though something _did _bring Kurt back – it doesn't erase that memory or that pain. Nothing can._

xXxXx

* * *

And then Blaine whispers, "I love you too."

This is not the way Kurt imagined them saying it for the first time. It was supposed to be different. But it doesn't matter.

Blaine loves him too.

Except in Blaine's eyes there's still despair instead of joy, so Kurt moves his hand to intertwine their fingers, and promises, "I'm not going to leave you. Not anymore."

It stings when Blaine gently pulls his hand away to place it back around his cup instead. He doesn't look at Kurt when he speaks softly. "What if they find you one day and you decide you need to run again?"

"We don't–" It's ridiculous, they are done running, but Blaine doesn't let him finish.

"What if you reunite with your parents and want to live closer to them? Move to LA or somewhere? What if you meet someone else and realize that what we had was just a silly teenage romance? _What if_, Kurt?" His face is so full of pain, Kurt's heart aches to comfort him, but when he reaches towards him, Blaine shakes his head. "You can't be sure. And if I just let go, let myself be happy with you, and then you leave…" There are tears in his eyes now.

God, Kurt had hurt him so much.

Blaine's voice is breaking when he says, with the air of finality, "I can't."

"You don't trust me anymore." The realization aches, but doesn't surprise Kurt, not really. Blaine shakes his head.

"I'm sorry. I'm trying, and maybe one day I will be ready to take the leap but… I don't know."

They finish their tea in silence. There's nothing left to say, really.

As they part to go home, Kurt hesitates for a bit. "Could we… not talk for a few days? I think I need a little bit of time."

"Am I losing you as a friend now, too?" It's more than sadness in Blaine's voice; it's resignation, and Kurt hurries to reassure him.

"No, of course not. I just need to–" Grieve? Get used to the fact that they will likely never be together again? That Kurt had screwed up that bad? "– put away my dreams."

He's sure he can hear a muffled sob as Blaine nods and turns away to go to his dorm.

* * *

The next few days are subdued in Kurt and Rachel's apartment. The phone doesn't ring. The music is off. Only the steady hum of the sewing machine fills the loft from dawn until the late night.

Kurt told Rachel about his conversation with Blaine when he came home that night, but he also asked her not to make him talk about it, not yet. She hugged him tightly and let him go to bed – by himself, because that was what he wanted. When he woke up late the next morning after tossing and turning long into the night, he found a huge piece of cheesecake on the kitchen table, from his favorite bakery three blocks away. "All yours," said a post-it note stuck to the box. He had to smile.

He needs space and solitude right now, needs room to breathe and to scream when he has to. He's mad at himself for ruining the most precious thing he's ever had, at his parents for forcing them with their choices, at life for dealing him this particular hand. Mad at the world because it's Valentine's Day and everything is covered with stupid little hearts, and all day at work there are happy couples being disgustingly in love that he has to serve, smiling forcefully and drawing hearts on their lattes. And then there are the memories of a similar day two years ago that are like stabs right now.

He needs time.

Fortunately, time is not a problem since Blaine keeps away just like Kurt asked him to and Rachel has thrown herself back into auditions, filled with new resolve and fresh confidence thanks to the acting group. No one else is there to disturb his grieving and after five days of feeling raw and broken, there comes a morning when the longing for Blaine is stronger than the heartbreak.

So he texts Blaine and they meet for coffee that evening, and even though it still aches to see him, with his sad eyes and his careful smile, it doesn't kill Kurt. They don't talk about their feelings. They don't try to be more than close friends. But it's enough. It has to be. It will take a while before they stop apologizing for every mildly suggestive word, before the awkwardness passes completely, but they will get there. They are too important to each other to let this break them apart.

Just… maybe no more sleepovers would be a good idea. At least not in the same bed.

* * *

Two days later Rachel comes home quietly excited. She's been trying to tone down her exuberance lately, mindful of Kurt's mood, so she doesn't come in bouncing and squealing, but he knows her. She's barely holding in some big news.

"Okay, out with it before you burst. What's up?"

This does get her to start bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her voice is a little squeaky as she says, "I think I have a role."

"What?" Kurt stops fiddling with a zipper on the tiny bag he's sewing and gets up to pull a beaming Rachel to the couch. "Oh my god, that's wonderful! Tell me everything."

"Well, it's nothing big. Just a background character with a handful of lines, and it's off-Broadway. But hey, it's a start. I won't be the girl without experience anymore."

The fact that she doesn't have any references has been a major obstacle in most of her auditions so far. She's neither studying to be an actress nor can she include any plays she's been on in her resume. Not that there were that many, or anything significant, just three high school productions, but at least the lead in West Side Story might be _something _to show that she has any experience at all. But they can't risk anyone contacting the schools to ask about the supposedly dead girl who turned up to audition. So having an actual role would be a huge improvement.

"That's great, Rachel! I'm so proud of you." Kurt hugs her tightly. "We should celebrate!"

"No," she interrupts before he has time to think of a restaurant that would be nice and within their budget. "Let's wait until I get the official confirmation, okay? I don't want to jinx it. But–" She slides out of his embrace and there's something in her smile that makes Kurt arch his eyebrows, suspicious.

"Okay, what is it that you want?"

Rachel smiles sweetly. "You know it's my birthday next week, right?"

"Is it? I forgot." Kurt teases and she swats his shoulder playfully. He chuckles. "Come on. Of course I know. And?"

She takes a deep breath and preemptively switches on the puppy eyes. Kurt has a bad feeling already.

"I want to throw a birthday party," she says. "Here."

* * *

It isn't as terrible as Kurt expected.

It turns out that Rachel's friends know of their financial situation, so they come bearing party food to add to what Kurt prepared, iPods with proper speakers and vast libraries of music, and a karaoke machine. They also bring alcohol, which they point out "the kids" shouldn't be drinking, and then mix drinks for them anyway. No one cares that there's not enough furniture to sit on and everyone accepts that Kurt's bedroom space, where his sewing machine and his designs are, is the only part of the loft that is off limits.

It's a tight fit with over twenty people in their apartment – dancing, singing, talking and laughing loudly, not a quiet corner in sight – but it's surprisingly bearable with Blaine by Kurt's side and Rachel so happy she's glowing, mingling with the crowd. Her friends turn out to be a mixed lot, the youngest in their early twenties, the oldest well over forty, but they all seem nice and very fond of Rachel, treating her like she's a pet of the group, complimenting her in front of Kurt for her talent and determination. He's glad to see her so well liked and accepted. She deserves it so much, and hasn't had a chance to be appreciated like this for so long.

Kurt is just watching her talk to a small group of people who haven't heard about her successful audition yet. She looks like a dream – beautiful in her short black dress with her hair like a shiny dark curtain down her back. Effervescent in her enthusiastic recollection of the director's compliments after her audition.

He walks over in time to hear, "See, I told you they would love you if you dropped the innocent girl act, now you're gonna get noticed in no time."

It's a skinny, thirty-something redhead talking – Annie? Allie? Kurt isn't sure – and he asks before Rachel manages to open her mouth. "Innocent girl act?"

The woman turns to him, unaware of Rachel's panicked expression that makes something heavy settle in Kurt's stomach. "Oh, you know, the pretty little virgin image. We've been telling her to play the sexy angle for weeks, use the body God gave her. How else will a girl get noticed in this business?" Her laugh is dry and Kurt tries very hard to keep his reply calm.

"Oh, I don't know, talent maybe?" he says breezily, and that actually gets the redhead to roll her eyes.

"You kids and your naïve notions of how the world works. Of course talent is important, but we're living in a city that's overflowing with talent. In a sea of amateurs, she's not going to get hired on talent alone, not until she has some achievements to show with it. But she has her youth and her beauty and her sexuality, and that's a big advantage. It would be a sin not to use it."

Kurt must have a different definition of sin because the ugliness of what she's implying is making him queasy, but before he can say anything more, Rachel is grabbing his hand.

"Hey, could you get me some diet Coke from the fridge? Please?" Her face is anxious, her eyes pleading, and he understands what she's asking for. _Not now, not when all my friends are here. We will talk about this later._

Oh, they _so _will, he's not going to leave it like that. But fine, it's her birthday, it can wait.

He brings her the Coke and gets himself another drink – something strong and fruity in a red cup. He hasn't planned to drink more than the one he had earlier, but now he's hoping the alcohol will numb him and stop the internal shaking long enough to let him endure the rest of the evening. He downs the drink fast and by the time Blaine comes back from the kitchen where he's been discussing the value of being a triple threat when looking for an acting job, Kurt is feeling relatively calm.

He doesn't tell Blaine about his conversation with the red-haired woman or about Rachel's reaction that told him pretty much everything he didn't want to know. Not yet. It's something they need to discuss alone, he and his sister.

For the next four hours Kurt tries his best to mingle and chat and laugh; he drinks two more fruity concoctions and even lets Blaine convince him to get up on their old table and sing a karaoke version of some terrible pop tune. By the time everyone leaves, crammed into five cabs that are going to dispense them throughout their respective neighborhoods, it's two a.m. and Kurt's head is swimming in an unpleasant way, both from the alcohol and the prospect of the talk he's going to have to have.

For a moment, he considers asking Blaine to stay behind after all. He could use the support and surely Blaine as an aspiring actor would be able to tell Rachel with added authority that what she heard was bullshit. But in the end, he decides against it – he can't expect Blaine to pay the full cab fare to go home afterwards or risk a nighttime commute while so very tipsy. And a sleepover is out of the question.

No, he can deal with it alone.

* * *

"I didn't sleep with him," are the first words out of Rachel's mouth when they are finally alone. "Don't look at me like that, I didn't."

She looks flushed and upset, and he believes her. But the fact that she has to assure him of that causes something hot to flare in him because it means she did do _something_ she's not proud of.

"I never thought you did," he says softly and then just looks at her, unsure how to ask.

Oh, how much he wants to believe that all she did during that last audition or any of the previous ones was turn on that sexy vibe she's so good at when she's trying. He's been altering or sewing most of her clothes himself, so he knows full well how her wardrobe differs from what she used to wear – short skirts and slinky dresses, sexy tops and a lot of black. She can pull sexy in a blink. But her earlier reaction tells him it's more than that.

"So what did you do to change the… what was it? Innocent girl act?"

She shrugs and starts gathering the empty cups, throwing them in a trash bag. "Oh, you know. Just. Act bolder, be more confident. Work on affirmations a little, reminding myself I'm a grown woman, not a schoolgirl anymore. Show some nudity. Wear heels and fake eyelashes and paint my fingernails and –"

"Whoa, wait, backtrack there a little." Kurt frowns and she glances at him across the kitchen.

"You mean the fake lashes? I know you think they're tacky but–"

"No, Rachel. You know very well what I mean." He winces at how stern his voice comes out when all he's aiming at is calm. The last thing he wants is sounding like her father.

She sighs heavily and flops on the kitchen stool, suddenly irritated. "Right, the nudity. Well, so what? I do topless scenes when they ask me to. I tell them I'm up for performing nude if needed. It's not a big deal. I have a nice body, it's one of the tools of the business."

Kurt speaks before he thinks it through, anger at how lightly she's treating this bursting through the self-control he's been trying to maintain. "I didn't know you're auditioning for the _porn_ business now. But it figures, with all the nights out and the slutty lingerie, the stash of condoms–"

Rachel gasps and then her eyes narrow. "You did _not_ dig in my underwear drawer."

"I was putting away laundry. Someone has to, you know, while you're out conquering the world, practicing your striptease for the directors and hooking up with random strangers."

Her eyes flash dangerously, her tone hard, vicious. "Well maybe you should try that sometime. Might help you get that stick out of your ass."

Now it's Kurt's time to gasp. "What is that supposed to mean?"

She's back to gathering the cups and paper plates, her movements jerky now, furious. "Well you're the one hung up on a guy who doesn't want you. Maybe you should let loose a little, go out and have some fun. We're in New York for God's sake, do you know how many hot, eager gay men I see every time we go to a club? If you went with us every now and then, you would get over Blaine in no time, but _nooo_, of course not, you're too much of a prude to even consider casual sex. So instead you sit at home and mope and judge others who have more fun than you do, and it's not fair, Kurt."

He looks at her like she grew a second head, fury boiling in him hot and dangerous. Who _is _this girl?

"I'm trying to keep us afloat! Who would pay the rent and make sure there's food to eat if I were to get on the fun train you so recommend? We'd be back on the streets in no time. So forgive me if I work my ass off to make a living for us. And yes, I judge you. And you know why?" He doesn't care if his words are cutting now, his finger pointed at her to stress every word. "Because if you continue this way, you will _never_ get on Broadway. The theater world isn't that big, Rachel. Do you think no one will know you paved your way to your first roles by showing your boobs? You will end up as a mediocre, disenchanted actress starring in lackluster shows, and I know you're better than that. I thought you dreamed bigger. So yes, I judge you for selling yourself cheap and for betraying your dreams. It feels like I barely know you anymore."

Rachel's eyes fill with tears and maybe Kurt should feel bad, but instead, he feels a kind of vindictive satisfaction. Maybe this will get to her at last, make her see reason. But then she sticks her chin up, her face hard.

"No one says you have to. I don't need your approval, Kurt. Or your sacrifices. And you don't get to tell me who I am, like you know better. Because you don't. We're not even family." Her voice wavers at the end and she storms off to the bathroom, locking the door.

Kurt tries to clean up some more, but his head hurts and so does his heart. They don't fight like this often, but when they do, they don't pull any punches. He knows the next few days will be an awkward, painful dance of apologies and smoothing everything out. He's already sorry for some of the things he said, even though they were all true, but it's too late to try and talk it out tonight. Especially when Rachel is still fuming, her only reaction to his knock on the bathroom door a snappy "Go away."

She doesn't come out by the time Kurt decides to go to bed, only passes him his toothbrush without a word and locks the door again. He brushes his teeth at the kitchen sink, takes in the mess he'll have to tackle in the morning and goes to bed, somehow managing to fall asleep despite the turmoil in his head.

* * *

When he wakes up, it's after eight. Rachel must have tiptoed around the apartment before going to work, unwilling to wake him up and risk a confrontation first thing in the morning. With a heavy sigh, Kurt rolls out of bed and goes to the kitchen, hoping to find a clean mug for his coffee before he deals with the rest of the party debris.

Except there's no debris left.

All the trash is collected and taken out, the dishes washed, the floors swept and mopped, and on the clean kitchen counter is a solitary sheet of paper.

_Kurt,_

_I'm not going to weigh you down any longer. I'm moving in with my boyfriend (before you ask: no, you haven't met him, and no, you probably wouldn't approve of him anyway). I hope you'll be able to enjoy yourself a little more with the load of me and my faulty ways off your shoulders._

_Take care,_

_R._

* * *

**Chapter songs: **_High Hopes _by Kodaline

_ According to You_ by Orianthi

* * *

The next chapter will be posted on** Monday 14 October.**


	15. Chapter 12: The dust settles

**CHAPTER 12: The dust settles**

Kurt's first reaction is panic. He wants to run to the bakery, find Rachel, shake her and force her to come home immediately after her shift. But the adrenaline rush that her note caused passes by the time he's dressed, and he sinks into the armchair to think.

In the end, he decides to call her instead. He presses _#1_ on his speed dial and waits. And waits. She doesn't pick up.

He decides to give it a few minutes and try again, but the text comes first.

_**Rachel: **__Don't. We clearly need time away from each other. _

Kurt winces and replies.

_**Kurt: **__Can we talk before making rash decisions? I'm worried about you._

Clearly it's not the right thing to say, though, because he can almost hear the snap in her next message.

_**Rachel: **__I'm fine, stop babying me. I'm a grownup and I'm ready to be on my own. _

_You are _so _not ready_, he wants to tell her, but he stops himself. There's no need to deepen the conflict between them any further. Instead, he types,

_**Kurt: **__Ok. If you're sure. Be safe, will you?_

The reply comes ten minutes later, when he's beginning to suspect that's the end of their conversation.

_**Rachel: **__I'll call you._

Meaning, _Don't call me until then_, of course. How is he supposed to respect that when he doesn't know where she is, _how_ she is, or if she's safe? He should go talk to her, convince her this is silly. But… maybe he can give her a few days first, let the anger fade somewhat.

His heart heavy, Kurt throws himself into work. The prospect of going home after his shift tonight is bleak, but he has nowhere else to go. Blaine has a study group until late and despite living in New York for over eight months now, Kurt still doesn't have any places that he can call his own. There's the apartment and the coffee shop, and that's about it.

What a waste in this vast and fascinating city. Maybe Rachel was onto something. Maybe he does need to go out and find his own friends and places, make new memories. Maybe being so focused on work and Blaine only _is_ kind of sad.

Maybe he will do something about it.

But not today.

* * *

When Kurt comes home that night, Rachel's space is still bare, her clothes, cosmetics and trinkets gone, the bed neatly made. He takes one look at it and hastily pulls the curtains closed. He doesn't want to see it so empty every time he looks that way. It's going to be hard enough to live here alone, in the apartment that seems bigger than ever.

As he turns to go to the kitchen and drown his sorrows in a cup of tea, he catches a glimpse of something bright on the floor and bends to pick it up. It's Rachel's soft red headband with tiny white hearts. He made it for her over a year ago, before they came to New York, because she loved the fabric and she had so few pretty things in her life then. She's been using it ever since – mostly at home lately, to keep her hair out of her face. She must have dropped it while packing this morning, and Kurt spends an embarrassing amount of time standing there with the colorful cloth in his hands, paralyzed with sudden, overwhelming grief.

This is the end of an era. The irrevocable, ultimate end of their childhood. Everything that has bound them to their past is now gone, the last of it being their unique bond. Rachel said it herself last night.

_We're not even family._

But they are. Maybe not by blood or law, but nearly ten years of sharing everything – their time, their space, thoughts and emotions and intimacy – brought them closer than most real siblings ever get. Since the day they moved into the Harbor house, they haven't spent one day apart from each other, and the hellish road they started on together only served to bring them closer when they struggled through each day, having only each other to lean on.

They _are_ family. They will always be family, whether Rachel wants to acknowledge it or not.

* * *

His bed is supposed to be a relief – an early bedtime to try and escape into sleep if he can't find peace anywhere else. Tomorrow will be easier.

But sleep doesn't come.

Two hours later he's still staring at the passing headlights reflected on the ceiling, when his phone rings and he knows it's Blaine without looking. He doesn't really feel like talking, weighted down by the anguish and guilt that have spun him into a suffocating cocoon already. But he feels like lying alone in the darkness even less, so he picks up the phone.

"Hi."

"Kurt. Is everything all right? I haven't heard from you all day, you haven't even answered my texts… I got worried."

He _sounds_ worried. Kurt takes a shaky breath. "Rachel's gone." It comes out helpless, broken, the first time he's said it aloud, and he hears a gasp on the other end.

"What do you mean, _gone_?"

"She moved out." He curls on his side, the phone stuck between his ear and the pillow. "We fought and she moved out."

"Where did she go?" Blaine still sounds worried, but his voice is also calm, which feels like a balm on Kurt's nerves, frayed after hours of spinning out of control.

"To move in with her boyfriend. Did you know she has a boyfriend?"

"Huh. No. But that's good," Blaine says. Before Kurt has time to protest, he adds, "I mean, if she decided to move out, it's good that she had somewhere to go, right?"

Kurt hums in what is not quite assent, and then Blaine asks carefully, "Why did you fight?"

"I–" What felt like valid, important reasons less than twenty four hours ago seem shaky now, and unworthy of such an argument. "I told her I disapproved of some of her choices. Both lifestyle and career-wise."

"Uh-oh. That couldn't have gone well." Kurt can hear the rustling of Blaine's sheets on the other side of the city, so far away. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

He does, it turns out. It spills out of him in a rapid wave as Blaine listens, humming softly in acknowledgement every now and then, but otherwise silent. Kurt tells him about Rachel's confession after the New Year, about her clubbing and partying and assumed hook-ups, about the auditions and her careless approach to nudity and sexuality. Maybe he shouldn't share her private affairs like that, but he needs to talk about it or he'll burst.

He feels spent when he's done talking, no longer certain if he wasn't wrong at all, or if he had a right to judge her like that.

"I can see why you confronted her." Blaine sounds thoughtful through the phone.

"You do?" It's a blessing, the validation. So he wasn't entirely unreasonable after all.

"Yeah." There's a pause, and then Blaine adds, "But I understand her side, too. All too well." He sounds quiet, subdued, and suddenly, Kurt understands.

"Have you ever–" He's not sure how to end that question, but Blaine knows what he means.

"I did," he murmurs, then clears his throat. "I tried it, partying and dating and… _more_, but it didn't work for me. I had an anchor to keep me from getting lost in the distractions. It's not as fun when your heart knows what it really wants. No hookups can fulfill that need."

A breath hitches in Kurt's throat. It's too much on top of all the other emotions of the day, and he can no longer keep the tears from spilling. Blaine realizes instantly.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have– I'm _sorry_, Kurt." It doesn't help though, now that the dam broke. Kurt can't catch a full breath through the tears to reply at all, and he can hear the distress in Blaine's voice. "Do you want me to come over? I can come over, right now. Just give me half an hour, maybe a bit more, I'll catch a cab and I'll be there."

"No. We can't," Kurt manages. "No sleepovers."

"I know we said that, but this is different. And I don't have to sleep with you. I'll sleep in Rachel's bed. Or on the torture couch." Kurt laughs wetly, but the tears keep falling, and Blaine sounds even more frantic. "Or I can not sleep at all, I'll just be there. Whatever you need." Kurt can hear louder rustling from his end again, more rushed now, accompanied by the banging of drawers. "I want to be there for you, Kurt. I'll just get dressed and I'm off to get a cab, okay?"

"No, don't," Kurt forces out against every instinct in his body, and the shuffling sounds from Blaine's room pause. "I'll be fine. It's late and you have classes in the morning–"

"I don't care, you're more important to me than classes. I'm serious, Kurt."

Oh, how easy it would be to say _Yes, please, I need you_, and soon find himself in Blaine's arms, the safest place on Earth for him. But that's the problem: Kurt knows he wouldn't be able to let go once he was there. They would sleep together again, and in the empty apartment, with the emotions running high, who knows what they might end up doing – what _he_ may end up _asking_ Blaine to do. It would only hurt more in the morning.

So instead, he says, "Thank you. You're the best friend I could ask for. But really, I'll be fine tonight. Can we meet tomorrow instead, go somewhere after my shift?"

Blaine sounds almost disappointed. "Of course, I'll pick you up. But are you sure–"

"Yes." Kurt sniffles and dries his eyes with the too long sleeve of his henley, moving to settle more comfortably on the dry part of his pillow. "Could you talk to me some more though?"

Blaine's voice has always been soothing to Kurt – no matter what he's talking about really. Just hearing the warm timbre of it calms him down like a promise of peace and safety. Kurt closes his eyes and just listens to the quiet monologue about Blaine's piano students and the new songs he's working on, and the movie he saw.

The next thing Kurt knows, he wakes up in the morning with the phone still pressed to his ear.

* * *

The plan to pay Rachel a surprise visit at the bakery goes by the wayside when she sends Kurt a message the next day, asking him to give her some space and not seek her out for now. It's not like he can refuse – she _is_ an adult, after all – but he makes her promise she will text him every few days to let him know she's okay. Other than that, he can only let her go and hope she doesn't get hurt.

Trying not to worry and letting Rachel build her life apart from him goes against every protective instinct ingrained in Kurt at the Harbor.

During the next few weeks, Kurt becomes a guest in his own apartment. He still sleeps there, of course, and sews every morning until it's time to leave for work – it's the evenings that he can't stand. The silence and emptiness of the loft that was their first real home away from home is hard to endure. So he escapes and doesn't come back until he's exhausted enough to drop on the bed and fall into deep, dreamless sleep.

To pass the time, he sometimes takes on more hours at the coffee shop, even though he doesn't really need them – his sewing pays enough these days to balance out the loss of Rachel's paycheck. Besides, he spends less now that he's alone anyway. But it proves to be a good distraction, and sometimes, after closing, he goes out for drinks with his coworkers. After all this time, he's only really just now trying to get to know them. Each of them has a story, it turns out when Kurt opens up to listen. What's more surprising to him, they are all okay with him not talking much about himself, and open to accept him as he is.

Sometimes Kurt spends the evenings with Blaine. Neither of them feels like touring the city much anymore, both weary with winter and waiting for the spring. They usually just sit in Blaine's dorm room, now a solitary after his roommate just packed his things and quit college one day in January, and they watch movies on Blaine's laptop. After years of deprivation, Kurt finds that he gets so focused on what he's watching that even Blaine's presence a foot away doesn't distract him. So he lets Blaine pick from the mile-long list of movies Kurt "absolutely has to see", and then they sit side by side on his bed – sometimes sharing a blanket if it's chilly, or eating popcorn – and they watch in silence.

And then they talk. Not during the movies, but Kurt can see the way Blaine sometimes watches his face instead of the screen, waiting for reactions to some of his favorite moments. So he saves his thoughts and questions and opinions, and they talk afterwards – freely, passionately, agreeing and disagreeing, and agreeing to disagree, sometimes veering into more general topics the movies touched, often finding themselves so engaged in the conversation that it's Kurt's alarm that has to remind him it's after eleven and he needs to go.

A few times the sophomore girls from down the hall join them during these movie nights and the discussion gets even more interesting with their input. Plus, they can all appreciate male beauty, which leads to some fun teasing and a lot of laughter. Kurt definitely enjoys these evenings. More than once, Blaine suggests that he could stay the night, arguing that the other bed stands empty anyway, but Kurt never does. It would be too easy to shake the balance they've found, the easy friendship without struggle for more, and he can't risk it, not when he needs Blaine now more than ever.

After each evening like this, Kurt walks out of the dorms feeling alive, acutely aware how much he's missed having real, deep connections to people, and intelligent, engaging conversations about more than just everyday things. He feels mentally stimulated, shaken out of the stagnation of focusing only on survival for so long.

And if merely watching and discussing movies with Blaine and his friends can do so much, what would actual studying feel like? Suddenly, the half-forgotten yearning is back full force, and Kurt starts thinking of ways he could go about continuing his education. He wants to finish high school and go to college if he can – maybe study something connected to fashion – and he knows there's a hundred obstacles, from their _presumed dead_ status to school records to money, but there has to be a way. And he's determined enough to find it. Maybe not right now, but hopefully by September he will have something figured out. He's doing fine, but he wants more from life than working at a coffee house and sewing on the side. He's capable of more, and he has to try.

March brings warm wind and the first signs of spring. Little by little, Kurt finds it easier to get used to the world where Rachel is no longer by his side. It still hurts, the way their separation came to be, but when she calls him after two weeks of silence and sporadic texts, her voice is bright and bubbly, and Kurt rests easier. She didn't get the role after all, he learns, and she's still auditioning, but it doesn't matter – life is wonderful, she is happy and no longer angry with him. They talk more regularly after that, calling each other every few days, and even though two more weeks pass and they don't manage to meet, Kurt at least knows she's safe and happy.

And then, in the third week of March, Elias – the Greek barista from Starbucks – asks Kurt out on a date.

* * *

"I think you should go out with him." Blaine is typing something on his laptop, his fingers flying across the keyboard and his eyes focused on the screen.

"But you said–" Kurt can't help how small it sounds, pitiful and hurt, and he can't even get himself to finish the thought, _you loved me_ stuck in his tightened throat. Blaine finally looks at him.

"I know," he says, his eyebrows drawn and expression pained. "I know what I said. But I can't give you what you deserve, so it's only fair that I shouldn't stand in the way of your happiness with someone else."

_I don't want someone else, I want you_, is what Kurt wants to say, but he knows better. He can't have what he wants, and he should at least try to move on. And Elias is nice and funny, and he looks a little like Blaine – short, with curly black hair and kind brown eyes, and maybe if Kurt tries hard enough, he can feel something for him.

He hates himself for the thought.

No, he'll just go without expectations and have a good time, and he won't try to feel what's not there. Unless there is something there. Although he doubts that very much.

The mood is sour after that. They watch yet another superhero movie, but Kurt finds himself distracted and glancing at Blaine constantly, never once meeting his eyes in return. They are quiet when the movie ends. Blaine claims he has a headache, and Kurt pretends to believe him, but as he gets his bag to go home, he can't help but wonder what it will do to their friendship when they inevitably start dating other people.

Well, he's about to learn soon.

It's past eleven when Kurt gets to his building. The lamps on the upper part of the stairwell are busted again, so he lights up his phone screen to find his keys as he runs up the stairs, and it's only thanks to this little bit of illumination that he doesn't trip over the small figure huddled on the top step by his door.

Heart pounding, he raises the phone to see the surprise visitor – undoubtedly some homeless person looking for a place to spend the night. It's happened a few times before; the building doesn't have a doorman and it's easy enough to slip in.

Instead, he sees a familiar old backpack, dark hair in a single loose braid and big, tear-filled eyes of his sister.

* * *

**Chapter songs: **_My Immortal _by Evanescence

_Chasing Pavements_ by Adele

_ Things That Stop You Dreaming _by Passenger

* * *

The next chapter will be posted on** Thursday 17 October.**


	16. Chapter 13: Aftershocks

**Author's notes: **_I'll just go find a quiet, well-hidden corner and resign myself to the fact that there will likely be yelling after this chapter… But no throwing things please :)_

* * *

**CHAPTER 13: Aftershocks**

"Rachel!" Kurt is down on his knees in a heartbeat, clutching her icy hands. "What happened? What are you doing here? And why didn't you just let yourself in, for god's sake?"

She sniffles, fresh tears flowing down her cheeks. "I wasn't sure if I could. I didn't want to scare you, and besides… it's not my home anymore, I can't just–"

"Don't be ridiculous, it will always be your home," Kurt interrupts her. "Come on."

He stands up, pulling her with him. She goes easily, and a moment later they are in the brightly lit living room and Kurt can look at her properly.

She looks tired and drawn, with red, puffy eyes and chapped lips. Her right shoulder is sagging under the weight of the backpack and Kurt reaches to take it off her. She smiles weakly at him, but her eyes are filling with tears again.

"Hey. Come on Rach, what's wrong?" One gentle pull and she's falling into his arms, sobbing on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I'm so sorry. You were right and I should have listened to you, I'm sorry."

It shakes him, fear shooting through his chest. "Oh my god, are you okay? Did someone hurt you?"

She shakes her head, still crying. "No, I'm fine, I promise. I'm okay."

She doesn't _look_ okay, but she doesn't seem physically hurt either, and she smiles weakly through her tears when he looks her over anxiously. He hugs her tighter and strokes her back.

"Okay, come on, you're frozen, let me make you some tea and you can tell me what happened, okay?"

She sniffles and pulls away, nodding.

By the time they have hung their coats and freshened up, Rachel is noticeably calmer. She perches on the kitchen stool while Kurt starts making tea, and takes a deep breath.

"Brody kicked me out," she says gravely.

Kurt frowns. "What? Why?"

"Because apparently I was stifling his artistic lifestyle." Her voice is wavering and Kurt thinks she's going to cry again, but instead she starts giggling, even though her eyes are tearful. It sounds a little manic, and no matter how worried he is, Kurt can't help but snort lightly, too. If she can still laugh at it, she's going to be fine.

"You _what_? What does that even mean?"

"Mostly, I just expected him not to sleep with anyone else."

Kurt's jaw drops. "You're kidding."

Lower lip trembling, she shrugs, but then forces a grin. "Oh, and I asked him not to walk around naked all day."

That gets Kurt to laugh again, so sudden that he almost spills the tea that he's carrying to the table, barely able to put it down in time. "Oh my god, Rachel!"

"What? It was distracting!" She giggles. "How was I supposed to try and get ready for my auditions with all that hot–" Kurt covers his ears, mortified.

"TMI! _TMI_, thank you very much."

That sets her off and they are both laughing for a good long while and yes, it is hysterical and more than a little unhinged, but this is familiar. Laughing in the face of hardships has always been an old and tried coping mechanism for the two of them. Laughing meant it was something manageable. It's when they couldn't laugh anymore that meant real trouble.

Eventually though, the attack of hilarity passes and Kurt takes a shaky breath, wiping at his eyes.

"No, seriously though, what happened? I thought you were happy. You _told me_ you were happy, just yesterday."

The speed with which the tears of laughter in Rachel's eyes turn into a deluge of real tears is startling. "I lied. I was miserable all this month. I missed you, and… I missed everything. Brody might have let me live there, but he wasn't thrilled about it. There were always people over, partying late into the night nearly every day, or he went out and only sometimes took me with him, and I just… I told myself it would get better. Only it didn't."

Kurt shakes his head, stunned. "Why didn't you come home?"

"After the dramatic exit I made? Come on, how could I just come back?" She sniffles. "Besides, I wouldn't be able to prove you wrong if I came back, would I? Show you how very grown-up and self-sufficient I am." She snorts bitterly. "Yeah, well, newsflash. I'm not."

Kurt takes her hand across the table. "Oh honey…"

"And you were right about the auditions, too. Last week this one guy didn't even let me finish one song, he just said I can have the role if I show him how well I perform in _other _areas." Kurt's jaw drops, and she shrugs. "That might have been Brody's doing though. He used to work in that theater and said he'd recommend me to the casting director."

"Oh my god, Rach–"

"And then last night this woman came over – I swear, Kurt, she must have been at least forty – and she was all over him from the moment he opened the door. And when I tried to set her straight, because she clearly didn't realize he wasn't single anymore, she just–" Rachel's voice breaks and a fresh wave of tears flows. "She laughed at me. She said I was cute, but I should get back to playing with Barbie dolls and let the adults do their thing. And Brody… Brody–" Her chin is wibbling now like it only does when she's very upset. "He yelled at me for trying to control his life."

A bad feeling starts to nibble at Kurt's brain. "Rachel…" he asks carefully. "How old is Brody?"

"What?" She looks at him, confused. "Twenty seven."

Okay, not some middle-aged pervert then, at least.

"Anyway, they left together and went to her place, I think. And Brody didn't come home for the night, and it was just... too much. In the morning I gathered my things and left." She sighs heavily. "It looks like it's my modus operandi, huh?"

"Where have you been the whole day?" Kurt asks as she takes a sip of her tea.

"At the bakery, and then walking around, mostly. Just, thinking and trying to gather the courage to come and apologize to you. I only came here after ten, when it got too cold to stay outside, but you weren't home."

"I was at Blaine's," he says. "Still, you should have called me. Or just let yourself in, you silly goose."

She bites her lip. "Does it mean I can move back in?" She sounds so unsure and vulnerable that Kurt's heart aches.

"Of course you can, did you honestly have any doubts?" He rolls his eyes.

"Well, I told you some terrible stuff that night, I thought–" Her voice is breaking again. "And I'm sorry, Kurt. I didn't mean it, I was just so angry and I wanted to hurt you."

Kurt shrugs. "It's okay. You weren't the only one saying hurtful things that night."

She shakes her head. "No, but you were just worried about me, not saying them out of spite, whereas I… the truth is I… I envy you. You and Blaine both, with your love and your certainty–"

Kurt stares at her, stunned. "Yes, I can see how our messed up relationship and wasted chances are things to be envious of," he scoffs, but she only waves his words away.

"You'll figure it out eventually. You two are too in love to let it go. And that's not something many people find this young. Or ever," she adds wistfully, and Kurt has to roll his eyes again.

"Oh how I missed your dramatic ways. I'm sure the long decades of solitude have scarred you deeply, but don't lose hope, my fair lady." This is enough to make Rachel snort and swat at his hand, and Kurt grins at her: mission accomplished.

"Shut up, I'm fresh out of a bad break-up, I'm allowed to mope."

"Um, did you actually break up with him before you went?" Kurt raises his eyebrow.

"I… left him a note?"

"Of course." He grins, and she sticks out her tongue at him. It's almost as if the last month didn't happen.

* * *

The date with Elias is nice. There are no sparks in the air or butterflies in Kurt's stomach, it's simply nice, but that's more than he expected. They go to a little restaurant that Elias claims is the best Greek place in all of New York. He already knows everyone there by name and they treat him, and by extension Kurt, like family, bringing them homemade wine and candles when they learn they are on a date, and making special dishes for them that aren't on the menu. It's the first time Kurt eats Greek and he loves it.

They start out talking about food, but soon learn they share a passion for baking and cooking, and the experience of having sisters who hate both. This leads to a discussion about stereotypical gender roles and Elias tells Kurt about growing up gay in a small Greek town, a surprisingly non-traumatic experience. When Kurt doesn't respond with his own story, Elias doesn't press for it, just smoothly changes the topic. The conversation is easy and light, the atmosphere relaxed, and when Elias leans in to kiss him goodnight, Kurt doesn't move away.

It's nothing like kissing Blaine, but it's so much more than nothing and Kurt falls into it, and responds, and then agrees to meet again, because why not.

It was nice, after all.

That's what he tells Blaine, too, when he asks how the date went: "It was nice." He only gets a nod of acknowledgement in response, and that's the end of the conversation, but the mood is sullen for the rest of the night and Kurt leaves the dorms with an unpleasant feeling like he'd done something wrong. Which he hadn't.

Didn't Blaine tell him he should date other people?

The second date is on a beautiful, sunny spring day. Elias brings him flowers and they hold hands as they walk through Central Park, and stop for hot-dogs. They end up going to the movies to see some romantic comedy that neither of them actually watches because they are too busy making out in the last row of the almost empty theater. Kurt goes home feeling giddy and young, a little drunk on the utterly teenage experience and actually excited for the third date.

Blaine doesn't ask how it went this time. In fact, Blaine barely asks about anything because he's thrown himself into preparations for the school spring musical so completely that one might think he has the lead and not the relatively small support role.

The third time Kurt goes out with Elias, they don't actually _go_ anywhere. It's a Saturday night and Kurt has told Rachel there's a distinct possibility he may not be coming home until the morning. In the tiny Brooklyn apartment they eat dinner that Elias made, and then kiss the taste of the chocolate mousse dessert off each other's lips. There's no rush and no pressure, and Kurt is comfortable with where things are heading – right until the moment when he suddenly isn't.

He's off the couch in a heartbeat, awkwardly trying to fasten his pants, and his cheeks must be glowing bright pink judging by how hot they feel. Elias is staring at him, dumbfounded, with his lips slightly parted and very red. Those lips that were just murmuring into his ear how much he'd love to suck Kurt's cock.

But the incomprehension on Elias's face passes quickly, replaced by a gentle frown.

"Oh. Was it too soon? I'm sorry, Kurt, I didn't know. Are you– Is this the first time you–"

Kurt would probably find it endearing if the circumstances were different, these attempts to be delicate about a sensitive topic for his sake, but right now, he can't bring himself to care. He doesn't even bother to tell Elias that he's _not_ a virgin – he's too eager to leave right now, feeling embarrassed and strangely dirty. He's never felt like this in his earlier sexual encounters, no matter how far he went with Blaine.

He tells Elias he'll see him at work on Monday, apologizes for ruining the mood and flees home without as much as a goodnight kiss.

* * *

xXxXx

_Finding Rachel on the floor, panting and covered in sweat, doing crunches, is not something Blaine expected when he knocked and let himself into Kurt and Rachel's apartment. He finally made time to visit them after two weeks of pretending – mostly to himself – that he was too busy to see Kurt (and his awful newfound happiness with someone who wasn't Blaine), and now that he's here, he feels like he should apologize. But mostly, he's excited to spend an evening with both of them. He's _missed _them._

_But Kurt isn't there, which becomes evident as Blaine scans the open space of the apartment._

"_He said he's coming home an hour later tonight," Rachel supplies through gritted teeth, trying to force her shaking muscles to crunch some more. "I think he wanted some time with Elias after work." She finishes on a groan and flops onto the floor, breathing heavily._

_The balloon of anticipation in Blaine's chest goes _poof_. Elias. Of course._

_He tries to smile anyway, though it feels like a painful frown. "Oh."_

"_But hey, it's fine, we can catch up until he's back. I haven't seen you in forever. I'm done with my workout now, I just need to crawl to the shower." She pulls herself up to her knees with a moan. "Okay, I'll be back in five minutes, make yourself at home."_

_It takes closer to twenty, but when she gets out of the bathroom, Blaine has to suppress a juvenile urge to whistle. She looks pink and soft from the steam, with her shiny hair in a loose braid and some kind of a half-transparent black dress-tunic-thing falling halfway down her bare thighs, leaving nothing to the imagination. Like the fact that she isn't wearing a bra. When she comes over and sits next to him on the couch, Blaine catches a scent of something warm and sweet, with hints of vanilla. It suits her._

"_You look lovely," he says, because she does and he's a gentleman, and she smiles sweetly. _

"_Oh, thank you. You look very handsome yourself."_

_Blaine is just about to reply when she leans in and just… kisses him. He's so surprised he doesn't react at first, just sitting there with his lips parted for a few seconds as she goes in to deepen the kiss, and it's the brush of her tongue over his top lip that pulls him away._

"_Rachel, what are you–"_

"_Shh," she whispers and her lips draw a warm path down to his jaw and the side of his neck. _

_He moves away, but she follows, getting up on her knees and almost into his lap. It's takes a gentle push against her shoulder and a firm "Rachel, no," to make her pause._

"_Why not?" she asks, her eyes wide and innocent, but her tone off somehow. "We still have time before Kurt comes back. I texted him, he's not even on the train yet. Come on, I know we're attracted to each other. And we're both single, young and hot." She purrs seductively and moves back into his personal space. "It will be amazing."_

_The speed with which Blaine gets up from the couch almost topples him over. "What's gotten into you?" _

"_You?" She makes a seductive face that looks like it's borrowed from a very bad porno, but then her act breaks and she flops back on the couch with a sigh. "Ugh. Well, that worked better in theory."_

_Blaine is still looking at her with wide, incredulous eyes from a safe distance. "Please tell me that was some sort of acting exercise."_

_Hurt runs through her features. "Why? Does the idea of having sex with me repulse you that much?"_

"_No, but–"_

"_Or is it because you've decided you're actually gay after all?"_

"_No," he says loudly to make her listen. "It's because we're friends and ruining this by sleeping with you is one of the last things I want to do."_

_She pouts and pulls her knees to her chest. "And because you're in love with my brother."_

_He sighs. "And because I'm in love with your brother, yes."_

"_Silly boys," she mutters. "Why can't you just get back together already if you're both so crazy for each other?"_

_Blaine bristles around the ache her words bring. "It's not that easy, Rach, it's–"_

_She just waves her hand, looking at her feet. "Whatever you need to tell yourself." They are both silent for a moment and Blaine is just considering sitting in the armchair to keep a little distance when she looks at him, something deep and desperate in her eyes. "But you care about me, don't you?"_

"_Of course I do."_

"_So couldn't you just… have sex with me because of that?"_

_Blaine sits back down next to her, truly concerned now. "Rachel, what's this about?"_

_She lets out a shaky sigh, curling up on herself even tighter. "I've never been with anyone who really just… cared about me. Not just my body – _me_. Because no one does, other than Kurt and you. And I just… I want to know what it's like, a single moment when it feels – _right_, you know?"_

_She's shaking all over and Blaine takes her hand and tips her chin up to look into her eyes, seriously worried now. He refuses to look away from her face even when she squirms. "Rach. What's going on, really?"_

_And just like that, she starts crying – big heaving sobs, and he gathers her close and holds her through it, the shoulder of his shirt soaked within minutes. _

_The words come when she's already gotten the worst of it out, so quiet they are barely there, just inches from his ear. _

"_I'm pregnant."_

* * *

**Chapter song: **_Please Sister _by The Cardigans

The next chapter will be posted on** Saturday 19 October.**


	17. Chapter 14: Consequences

**Author's notes: **_As you can probably guess from the way chapter 13 ended, this chapter discusses topics that may be considered sensitive. If you choose to skip some parts, it should be safe to come back for the last section of this chapter._

_Also, because I've been accused of putting my own opinions in my characters' mouths before: this is a story, a work of fiction. I go where the story takes me, I don't have an agenda and I always try to write with respect and sensitivity whenever I touch hard topics. If you want to discuss anything regarding this chapter, please message me off-anon so that I can reply privately._

* * *

**CHAPTER 14: Consequences**

"_Are you sure?" _

_It's probably the dumbest question to ask someone who just told you they're pregnant, but Blaine can't help it. He has trouble processing the news, is all. _

_She looks at him with reddened eyes. "Well, I haven't gone to a doctor, but I took three different pregnancy tests in the last week and they are all positive, so yes, I'm pretty sure."_

"_But… how? When? I mean… how long?" _

_Her stomach, clearly visible in the see-through outfit, is completely flat, but then again, Blaine has never known any pregnant women personally. He doesn't know anything about pregnancy. _

_Well, no, okay – he does know it lasts nine months, and that it causes morning sickness and some crazy food cravings. He remembers diagrams of a baby in the uterus from his freshman year Health class, and something about putting pillows between a pregnant woman's legs to make her more comfortable, though he's not sure when or why. Should he gather some for Rachel now? She doesn't look uncomfortable, just emotional and drained, but what does he know?_

_Oh, and he's pretty sure women should avoid stress when expecting babies, and… alcohol maybe? And strenuous exercise? Does Rachel know that? The crunches she was doing earlier looked pretty strenuous to him._

_He has a sudden urge to call his mom – more because she's a doctor and a woman than anything – and ask a ton of questions. Rachel's voice brings him back to reality._

"_It's still very early. I only missed my period two weeks ago. At first I thought it was just stress after the mess with Brody, or maybe I miscalculated. But then another week passed, and I couldn't stop thinking…" She takes a shuddery breath and starts playing with her overlong sleeve. "There was this party. About a week before I left. Brody kept bringing me drinks, and the more I had, the more fun it seemed, and… I just know we had sex, and that it was in the bathroom, but no matter how hard I think, I can't remember if he used a condom. I mean, he always had before but–" She shrugs, her lower lip trembling. "So finally I bought the test and… boom." Her eyes well up again._

"_Did you talk about this to anyone? One of your girl friends, maybe?" Blaine is feeling so out of his depth it's not even funny._

"_No. You're the first to know."_

"_Wait, you haven't even told Kurt?" Blaine stares at her, shocked._

"_No." She sighs and wipes at her eyes. "I've felt like… if I said it out loud, it would become _real_. Like the problem would just disappear if I didn't acknowledge it."_

"_But it won't!" _

_Rachel frowns at his frantic tone. "Of course it won't, do you think I don't know that? I may be desperate but I'm not stupid. Yes, I have been doing everything I'm apparently not supposed to do while pregnant, hoping against hope that nature will somehow take its course, but rationally, I know I'm deluding myself. Taking scalding hot baths, exercising like a madwoman or drinking gallons of strong coffee won't make my period just magically come and fix everything."_

"_Oh Rachel–" Blaine whispers, mortified._

_She snaps at him. "Don't you dare tell me it's wrong to think like this. You have no idea how it feels when your body betrays you, you don't know what it's like to know you just messed up your whole life because you were stupid, that nothing will ever be the same again. You know _nothing_, Blaine."_

_His eyes widen. "Oh, no, I didn't mean–" but she's on a roll already._

"_And that's not even counting the hormones. God, I'm such a mess. I keep bursting into tears all the time, I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep at night, and just yesterday I must have left the door unlocked when I went to the store though I was sure I locked it. I feel like I'm losing my mind. I don't know what to do–" Rachel's voice breaks and Blaine gathers her into a hug, finally breaking free of his stunned paralysis._

"_You have to tell Kurt," he says, stroking her back. "Whatever you do, you need him in your corner, too."_

_She's shaking harder now, suppressed sobs breaking free between words. "I know but… how can I tell him I messed up even worse than he already knows? We've only just made up these last weeks, things have finally gotten back to normal… and now this. He's gonna hate me."_

"_He's not going to hate you, come on. I'll be right here when you tell him, okay? I can hold your hand if you need it, but you have to tell him, Rachel."_

_Her "okay" is quiet and tremulous, but it's there, and Blaine may know next to nothing about pregnancy, but he knows that whatever lies ahead won't be easy. And there's no doubt in his mind that whatever happens next, he's going to support her through it._

xXxXx

* * *

"Guys, breaking up with a person is _hard_. I feel like I've kicked a puppy and I'm counting on you to distract me tonight," Kurt announces as he steps into the apartment and drops his bag.

He's met with two somber faces and a distraction that drives every last thought about Elias out of his mind in a heartbeat.

* * *

"What do you mean you're _pregnant_? My god, Rachel, you were living with a guy, sleeping with him regularly, and you didn't think to use protection? Get on a pill or something?"

Kurt can see how fast her face just _falls_, how she curls in on herself, but he's too stunned-shocked-struck out of balance to stop the sharp words that crowd his tongue. Not until he sees Blaine shaking his head behind Rachel's back, his face in a worried frown and eyes locked with Kurt's. This does make him take a deep breath and force himself to calm down a little. He drops his head in his hands.

"No, okay, I'm sorry, Rach. There's no use throwing blame around, I'm just… shit. Shishit_shit_. Are you sure?"

She just nods, still too upset to talk, and he tries to be gentle, asking the next question on his mind.

"And it's this guy Brody's?"

"Yes." She doesn't even protest the suggestion this question brings, which tells him more than enough about her state of mind. Sighing heavily, Kurt sits down on the couch and pulls her to his chest where she immediately buries her face in his shirt.

"I'm sorry. We'll get through this, okay? I promise," he murmurs into her hair. But the anger is still flaring bright and hot, in desperate need of release, so he adds, "I need this guy's address. And I need to go kick his ass or I'll explode."

Rachel's head shoots up at this, her face panicked. "No! I don't want him to know, I don't ever want him to hear about it. Promise me, Kurt. Both of you. Promise you won't tell him."

"But… what if you decide to–" Kurt stops, reminds himself not to assume anything. "Do you know what you want to do?"

She starts to cry again, her eyes all puffy by this point, her voice breaking. "I can't– I…" She shakes her head. "I need to think."

"Of course." Kurt nods, his mind going a mile a minute already, planning and calculating for every possibility. He forces himself to stop. Now is not the time. Now, he's needed here. He hugs her again. "Do whatever you need, take as much time as necessary. We'll be here for you no matter what you decide."

On her other side, Blaine winds his arm around her shoulders, completing the embrace. "We will."

* * *

They don't even debate Blaine staying the night this time – it's obvious that he will. Their own little drama fades into the background when there's a much bigger, painfully real problem to face, one that touches them as if it was their own. Or at least touches Kurt this way.

He did think about being a father before. Not just at the Harbor, where it was supposed to be the set, obvious role for him to take in the community as soon as he was deemed ready, but also out of it, in his secret dreams of a husband and a home and a normal life. This is neither of these scenarios, and he's too young and unprepared, and the child is not even his – but if need be, he _will_ be a father to Rachel's baby, or as close as he can be. Even if it makes his own life much more complicated.

Kurt leaves his bed to Blaine and holds Rachel as she falls asleep, worn out with tears and emotions. His own sleep is restless and plagued with unsettling dreams, and when he wakes up in the middle of the night, Rachel isn't there.

He finds her in the kitchen with Blaine. They are both drinking warm milk and talking quietly, but when she notices Kurt, she starts crying again. It takes ten minutes for her to calm down enough to tell him it's because she didn't want to make him lose more sleep because of her. Barefoot and barely awake, he grabs a cup and joins them by the table.

It's going to be a hard week.

* * *

Blaine leaves in the morning, only to be back with a borrowed air mattress in the evening when it becomes clear that Rachel is in a full meltdown mode. Juggling jobs and classes and food preparation, they spend the next few days together in the apartment, and Kurt has never appreciated Blaine's friendship and his caring as much as he does now.

These few days are filled with Rachel's tears and Kurt's frantic yet discreet internet research, but also with some of the most honest, real conversations he remembers having with Rachel since they ran away. The hardships of their life on the run and then the first trying months here in NY caused distance to grow between them, an invisible wall that Kurt never fully realized was there until he saw how much he's missed, busy fighting for their survival. Rachel has no defenses now, weighted with her new burden – no fabulous fronts to put on. She's completely vulnerable, utterly open, and it shocks Kurt to learn just how lost she's been since she gave up her suicide plan for him, how little sense she saw – still sees sometimes – in staying alive. She has no real goals and only a few fairytale dreams, no anchor to hold onto when it's hard, like Kurt has always had in Blaine and his hope for a normal life one day. It aches to hear, to know that he hasn't noticed the extent of her problems even though he was the closest to her.

How lonely she must have been all this time.

It's the fourth day, a bright and sunny morning, when they wake up and find Rachel sitting at the kitchen table with a determined expression. She's drinking coffee – something she gave up in the last few days – and Kurt knows what she's going to say before she even opens her mouth.

"I… I made up my mind." Her voice is tremulous, but her face resolute, not a hint of doubt visible. "I mean, it was made up all along, but… I think I'm okay with it now. As okay as I will ever be, at least." She takes a shaky breath and Kurt reaches for her hand, which she gives him gratefully. "I can't have a baby. Not now. With no money, no partner, no education at all… I'm too big a mess to even take good care of myself, let alone a child. I think I finally understand my mom." Her eyes fill with tears again. "At least she had a husband who wanted a child and a family. I don't. So… yeah. It's hard after being told all my life that children are the greatest good there is, but that's all I can do." She looks between the two of them, anxious. "What do you think?"

"I think," Kurt says, squeezing her hand, "that if you're sure, we should make an appointment at Planned Parenthood today."

* * *

One phone call, two days and one pill later, the three of them are back from the clinic, feeling somber and suddenly more grown up, in a sad way.

Rachel had been a nervous wreck before the appointment, terrified about the possibility of protesters and judgment and having to face a medical procedure all alone, but it turned out none of it was necessary. Kurt and Blaine were with her for support (and for potential protester scaring), the staff was respectful and professional, and it turned out that since she was only seven weeks pregnant, there was probably no need for a procedure – abortion pills should suffice. She swallowed the first one at the clinic and was given another one to take at home in two days.

And now they are home. They have all taken a few days off from jobs and classes, and Kurt and Blaine are determined to focus on what's important for the next few days: helping Rachel to get through this physically and emotionally hard time, and caring for her in any way necessary, be it with distractions, pampering or providing shoulders to literally lean on.

That first day, they do some walking through spring-filled New York – sunlight filtering through fresh green leaves in Central Park, warm wind kissing their faces. They get ice-cream and watch street musicians, eat lunch at a salad bar and balance the healthiness of it out with decadent, sugar-laden desserts. They sit outside at a tiny old-fashioned café, drinking strong fragrant coffee out of pretty cups and just enjoying a beautiful warm day, detached from the rush of people all around them. It's like they've pushed pause on their lives and no matter how sad the reason, it feels nice to slow down for a bit.

By the evening Rachel starts feeling the effects of the pill, so they move the pampering and distractions inside. Blaine has a disk full of light, feel-good movies on his laptop, there is good, simple food and snacks in the pantry to last for the rest of the week, and Kurt brings back the old tradition of mutual manicures and massages – only it turns out Blaine is far superior to either of them in his massage skills, as Kurt discovers when he has a sudden, mortifying reaction to a foot rub. There's cuddling and music and heat pads for Rachel, and of course it doesn't completely block out her cramps or discomfort, or the constant awareness of what exactly is happening, but they are all doing their best.

Blaine is still staying with them for the next few days, and with Rachel retreating to her bedroom early every evening for some alone time, he and Kurt are faced with unexpected hours to fill by themselves. It's easier than Kurt feared, though. With the recent closeness born from Blaine essentially living with them this past week – and Kurt thinks he will never not feel the flood of affection at seeing Blaine sleepy and disheveled in the mornings – it feels natural to just exist together, talking or doing dishes or sewing while Blaine strums his guitar. They bake brownies, play board games that Blaine brought from his dorm and it's all so damn _easy_ it takes Kurt's breath away.

Rachel is quiet these days, pensive, and they let her be, just following her lead, whether she wants to watch movies curled between them on the couch or hides in her bedroom asking to be left alone. It's her time to grieve something that could have been, and even without talking about it, it's clear to both boys that this is all they can do: just be there for her, the best support they can be, and hope this will be enough.

* * *

The shock comes two weeks later – after Blaine returned to his dorm, after Kurt and Rachel got used to his absence, after she slowly started smiling again.

They come home one afternoon, after Rachel's check-up at Planned Parenthood, all three of them relieved and in good moods, ready to put this whole experience behind them and celebrate her clean bill of health with some ice cream. They are laughing as Kurt goes to unlock the door.

The key doesn't turn.

Mildly concerned, he pushes the door and it slides open, the key still dangling from the lock. Kurt takes a few steps into the apartment, frowning. Behind him, Rachel and Blaine are still chatting animatedly, unaware of his confusion.

And then a tall, dark figure steps out from the shadows between their bedrooms.

"Hello, kids."

Rachel screams.

* * *

**Chapter songs: **_Keep Holding On _by Avril Lavigne

The next chapter will be posted on** Monday (21 October).**


	18. Chapter 15: Haunted

**CHAPTER 15: Haunted**

"Well well well, you two look very good for dead people."

Kurt has seen this moment in his nightmares, waking up in a cold sweat too many times to count, but reality proves to be even more terrifying. The elegant black suit, the gaunt face and solemn expression that Kurt knows is only a mask for the cruelty underneath – they all look sharper here than in his memory.

The Haunt has finally found them.

He steps closer – too close for comfort – and reaches with his long arm to flick on the light. In the sudden glare, pale and looming, he looks like Death.

None of them speak, too shocked to move in the doorway, and the man smiles kindly.

"Well, apart from Miss Berry's paleness from the recent child loss. Such a tragedy." He coos, and something in Kurt snaps.

"What do you want?"

"My my, is this a way to welcome a friend after such a long time?" The man chides gently, and then looks at Blaine who's standing by Kurt's side now, shielding Rachel. "Oh, I'm sorry, let me introduce myself, Mister Anderson. I'm–"

"I know who you are." Kurt has never heard Blaine's voice so cold. The Haunt's extended hand hangs in the air.

"Oh. They told you about their home, then? Very well." The man says cheerfully and turns to Kurt again. "Imagine my surprise when a friend from our New York community who works at the DMV called me with the most curious information. Seems like he found two interesting names added to the city records. Names that were strikingly similar to those of our long lost and dearly missed children. Of course, I had to investigate – I spent some time in the city, people-watching, making new friends, and what a joyful discovery it was when I found out that you are indeed alive. I'm sure your parents will be beside themselves with happiness at your miraculous return. They've taken your deaths very hard, as you can imagine, especially with the letter you left that blamed them for your deaths." His voice is full of compassion.

Behind Kurt's back, Rachel lets out a choked sob. Kurt's own throat clenches painfully, but he swallows and says in a voice that's only a little rough, "We're not going back."

The Haunt's face is a picture of innocent confusion.

"Oh, but surely you must have realized by now that the world is nothing like the song and dance you envisioned it to be. It couldn't have been easy out there on the run, and even now–" he gestures at the apartment around them. "What have you gained? Living in poverty with useless jobs and barely enough money to survive. Poor Rachel, stripping for roles she won't get anyway, so desperate for love that she's falling for older men, only to be used and left to make decisions that are too big for her little head."

Blaine nearly chokes on some indignant sound. "Now listen, you–"

The Haunt pays him no attention as he turns to Kurt.

"And you. Working day and night just to make ends meet, without the comfort of family to soothe and take care of you at the end of a hard day. You've put so much time and distance between you and your community, so much effort to follow this _boy_, and for what? You're still with the woman that is destined for you because deep in your heart, you know that's your place. Wouldn't it be easier to stop fighting it and return where you belong? Start a proper family in the comfort and safety of the community?" The concern in his voice sound almost authentic. "Don't throw your whole life away, child, just because of one teenage crush on some kid who doesn't even have the guts to be with you."

Suddenly, Blaine's hand is pressing into Kurt's, warm and insistent, and Kurt takes it gratefully like the anchor it is. And then he has to try very hard not to act surprised when Blaine says, "Why would you think I'm not with him?"

Having your breath taken away is not a good thing when you're trying to act all adult and certain, but somehow Kurt manages to keep his voice firm. "Mister Harris, thank you for coming all this way, and taking the time and effort to spy on us so thoroughly, but we're not going back. And we don't appreciate you invading our space or our lives, so please go and leave me, my sister and my boyfriend in peace."

The Haunt's eyes narrow dangerously, the amicable mask gone in a blink.

"You know, I could make life very difficult for both of you, child," his voice is cold as ice now. "It would be so easy. Words and opinions can go a long way if released in the right place, did you know that? I could make it my pet project – how much would it take for you to lose your job? What could I plant in your papers to mark you untrustworthy in a way you'd never be able to wash away? To make it difficult for you to find another employer? How long would it take until you're back on the streets?" he sneers. "I could make sure your pretty little fiancée never touches the stage in any respectful theater. Or your _boyfriend_ – he wants to be an actor too, doesn't he?" The Haunt cocks his head. "You two caused a lot of trouble to the community, a lot of discord and anxiety with your lies and your defiance. I could make you pay for this."

Kurt looks him in the eye, suddenly unafraid. "I'm sure you could. But will you?"

The man is silent for a long while, his cold eyes taking in the sparse, cheap furnishings of their apartment and resting with visible distaste on their joined hands, on Rachel's face with its bold make up. When he finally speaks, spite is dripping from his words.

"I guess you just have to wait and see. Maybe I will, now or one day when you don't expect it anymore. Or maybe I'll let this life be your punishment. This dirty, corrupt city will chew you up and spit you out anyway, broken and unhappy, and you will cry for the easy, safe life in the Harbor. And it will be too late. You can never return, you can _never_ be a part of our community again. So go, children. Enjoy your freedom that you've decided to pay such a price for. Enjoy it while you can. But know I'm always there, watching. I don't forget."

With one last condescending look, he leaves.

* * *

xXxXx

_Kurt's hand cold and sweaty in his, Blaine steps aside as the tall man pushes by them on his way out the open door. What a stuck up, condescending prick. And creepy at that. The way he looked at them, ugh! Like he was sickened by the sight of them holding hands, by the very idea of them being together._

_Blaine has never been on the receiving end of such a reaction before – not from his family nor those few of his friends who saw him flirting with guys. So this disgust, something he'd only ever heard about until now, feels like a reality check._

_But so does something else._

_The man's words were clearly intended to hurt, to target Kurt and Rachel's most vulnerable spots, but one thing struck _Blaine _right between the eyes. _

_Kurt did it all – broke a suicide pact, struggled to keep them both alive on the run, got to New York – because of _him_. And Blaine knew this already, both Kurt and Rachel told him more than once. Only now, coming from a sneering stranger's mouth, it feels like a punch. _

_Kurt risked everything. He went through hell to come back to Blaine. Because he loves him._

_And Blaine is pushing him away because he's afraid of heartbreak? _

_He's been given a miracle, another chance, and love so bright and strong it literally defeated death. And he's saying "no, thank you" because it may burn him?_

_Because he doesn't trust Kurt?_

_What more does he need to trust?_

xXxXx

* * *

Blaine recovers first.

"So that was–"

"The Haunt, yes." Kurt can feel his heart pounding as the adrenaline rush fades, making him weak in the knees.

"Okay, I admit he was a little scary."

That makes Rachel giggle behind them, a breathless, hysterical burst of sound. Kurt starts to turn towards her. Only–

"Blaine?"

"Hm?"

"You're still holding my hand." Not that Kurt minds. Not at all. It's just that Blaine doesn't seem to realize, and Kurt doesn't want to take advantage of his kind gesture. It's enough that Blaine helped him, pretending to be Kurt's boyfriend in front of the Haunt.

"I know." Blaine is looking at him as if he's seeing him for the first time. "Is that okay?"

Kurt forgets to breathe.

"Completely okay," he whispers.

"Okay then," Blaine whispers back, relief clear in his smile.

"Oh my god, guys! _Now _you've decided to end this dance?" Rachel's exasperated groan breaks them out of their reverie. She tries to walk between them to get properly inside the door at last, breaking their connection, but Blaine just raises their joined hands so that she can get underneath. She huffs and rolls her eyes.

They don't break apart as they follow her to the couch, holding hands while they slowly calm down and discuss the unexpected visit. The fact that the Haunt found them, the amount of information he'd managed to gather, the possibility of his meddling – it's all terrifying, but honestly, Kurt is more relieved than anything. It feels like a spell has been broken. They've been frightened of this exact thing happening for almost two years, their imaginations spinning more and more paralyzing scenarios as time passed, until it felt like their world would inevitably end if they were ever found.

And now it actually happened, and they are still here, whole and untouched, though shaken. With a small gasp, Kurt realizes that he's no longer afraid. Now that they are adults, away from the Harbor and without the temporary shock of a moment, the Haunt seems like a bitter old man with more talk than bite rather than the monster from their past. If there are consequences – although Kurt honestly doubts that – they will deal with them when they come. But in the meantime, there's life to live.

The boys stay on the couch together when Rachel goes to the kitchen to order pizza. They had a nice, proper dinner plan, but that can wait. They can cook tomorrow. Tonight, this newfound link between them feels too fragile to let go even for a minute.

"Kurt?" Blaine strokes his thumb over Kurt's knuckles.

"Yes?"

"Would it be okay if I stayed tonight?"

Blaine's air mattress has been returned, and Rachel hasn't needed Kurt to hold her through the night for over a week now. They both know what Blaine is really asking.

"Yes," Kurt breathes.

There's a small sniffle from the kitchen. Rachel is leaning against the counter with a phone in her hand, watching them with fond, wet eyes and a soft smile. She sticks her tongue out at Kurt when she sees him grin.

"Oh shush you, I'm still emotional from the hormones. And you two are just… It's been too long, okay?"

* * *

When the pizza is eaten, Rachel disappears into her bedroom, only to come back out with her oversized bag on her shoulder.

"Okay boys, I'm going out and I won't be back until noon tomorrow." She catches Kurt's concerned expression and shakes her head. "Don't worry, I'm just going to spend the night at Allie's. She's been inviting me for a girls' night for months now and I _just_ decided tonight might be a great time for it." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and Kurt groans.

"Oh my god, Rachel, you don't have to go anywhere."

He's thrilled with Blaine staying, but it doesn't mean he's going to dive into everything all at once. For one, he wants to make sure the bubble doesn't burst in the morning again. And if it hopefully, miraculously doesn't, if they really are back together, he wants to do it properly this time – slowly, gradually, giving themselves time to explore _everything_.

But Rachel just smiles sadly and pulls on her coat. "I kind of do. I just need the company of someone who isn't deliriously in love tonight. Have fun, cupcakes!"

* * *

Blaine kisses him the second the door closes behind Rachel. It's soft and sweet, just a gentle touch of their lips, and yet it's enough for all the dormant butterflies in Kurt's stomach to rise in flight. With a helpless, desperate sound, Kurt cups Blaine's cheek and kisses back, pouring all of his longing, his hope, his love into the frantic press of his lips against Blaine's.

It's better than that night before Christmas. They are completely sober, for one, so there's no doubt in Kurt's mind that every kiss and touch happens because Blaine chooses it. And then there's Blaine's face. If Kurt opens his eyes, he can see the curl of Blaine's long eyelashes on his cheek and, in the short moments between kisses, the whole galaxy of colors in Blaine's wide eyes, full of so much affection that Kurt's heart aches in the best possible way.

They can't stop kissing for long, their eyes fluttering close again, but there are other senses to enjoy. Those delicious little sounds Blaine lets out, the delicate, fading smell of his cologne, the tickle of his stubble when Kurt strokes his fingertips down Blaine's cheek and jaw. He's ready to let go and just drown in the sensations when Blaine pulls away.

"Be my boyfriend?" he says, breathless, and Kurt feels his heart stutter in incredulous joy. But then Blaine frowns, looking unsure. "I know I've been acting like an ass, I'm sorry, is it too late? Because–"

"Blaine," Kurt shushes him, unable to stop the wide grin growing on his face. "Of course I'll be your boyfriend."

Breath leaves Blaine in one relieved exhalation, and then he's kissing Kurt, firm and a little sloppy in his rush. Kurt tangles his fingers in the hair at the back of Blaine's head and kisses back. It's different from their kisses back in Lima, where there was always the feeling of having finite amount of time to fit all the closeness they wanted. Now there's no hurry. Or at least Kurt hopes so.

They get lost in it. That's the only explanation of how Kurt finds himself with Blaine straddling his thighs, pressing the unmistakable hardness of his erection against Kurt's. Almost an hour has passed and Kurt is aching, trapped in his skinny jeans. In his lap, Blaine is panting softly, trembling with the effort of restraint. It would be so easy to give in to the sweet temptation, let their bodies find the perfect rhythm again and just drown in the pleasure of being together like this after so long.

But this isn't what Kurt wants. And they haven't had this conversation yet, but it seems that Blaine is on the same page here. He presses a soft kiss on the tip of Kurt's nose.

"Shower?" he asks. "Separately, I mean."

Kurt nods. "Good idea."

But it turns out that the shower doesn't provide the desired cool-off effect at all. Kurt's skin is tingling everywhere Blaine has been touching him, and the thought of him stepping into this very tub in a moment, so hot and so naked, is enough to keep certain parts of Kurt's anatomy very interested. He could probably kill his hard-on by dousing himself with ice cold water, but it would be a temporary solution. And Kurt definitely doesn't want his neglected libido to override his rational knowledge of what he wants once he's in bed with Blaine.

So he does what seems like the best solution. With the fresh memory of Blaine's body hard and close against him, and the level of arousal coursing through him already, it only takes a dozen firm strokes and Kurt is coming, biting on his thumb to keep Blaine's name from escaping his lips.

Judging by the hastily muffled moan coming from the bathroom ten minutes later, when Kurt is getting water from the kitchen, he's not the only one with this idea.

Blaine comes back to Kurt's bedroom wearing the pajama pants he left there the last time – and nothing else. His chest is more defined than Kurt remembers it, with a new dusting of soft-looking dark hair, and Kurt's jaw drops.

"It this okay?" Blaine asks, moving closer to the bed Kurt's sitting on and cupping his face to lean into a sweet, soft kiss. "I don't want us to rush, but… I want you close, skin on skin. I want to _feel _you. We never had enough time when we were together and I've been dreaming so long of just holding you close without any barriers and nothing to tear us apart."

Kurt slips off his t-shirt before Blaine is even done talking, and _god _it feels good to see the way Blaine's eyes darken, his jaw going slack before he scrambles onto the bed.

It's just as narrow and uncomfortable as ever, but now it almost feels like a bonus: there's skin everywhere, and even when Blaine switches off the little bedside lamp and Kurt loses the amazing visual, he can still feel the warm satin of Blaine's skin under his fingertips, the firmness of his muscles as they hold each other close.

But being so close, Kurt can't miss the way Blaine starts shaking in his arms, tiny tremors that soon turn into full-body trembling as Blaine's breath hitches once, then again and again. Kurt can't see in the darkness, but he's not surprised to feel moisture under his lips when he kisses Blaine's cheek. He pulls him closer into the tight embrace, envelops him.

"Shh, hey, what's wrong?"

It seems to be too much for Blaine. A broken sob rips out of his throat as he presses his face into Kurt's bare chest, his wet lashes tickling Kurt's collarbone. His voice sounds raw when he finally speaks.

"You came back to me, and I almost lost you again. A miracle happened, an impossible dream, and I almost pushed it away because I'm a coward. God, Kurt. Don't ever let me lose you again. Please. I love you so much." He's crying, out of control, as if everything has just hit him all at once, and Kurt just holds him and strokes his heaving back, whispering words of love and reassurance, promises to stay, to never leave again, words like _yours_ and _us _and _together_, sweet visions of the future. And Blaine listens and cries and kisses Kurt's lips, his neck, the place over his heart. It's sweet and sad and exhausting, and Kurt keeps vigil until Blaine's breathing evens out and he falls asleep, a warm boneless weight on Kurt's chest. Only then does he allow himself to kiss Blaine's forehead and with the last whispered _I love you_, close his eyes and drift off.

* * *

The bubble doesn't burst in the morning. Kurt opens his eyes to a mid-morning light, only to be greeted with a kiss and a realization that _this happened_. This _all _happened.

"Pinch me."

Blaine kisses his neck. "Can I bite you instead?"

"Anything, just… I think I'm still dreaming."

"I thought so, too," Blaine smiles, but dutifully nips at Kurt's collarbone. It hurts in a delicious, definitely-not-dreaming way. "Except then I realized that I need to pee, and that doesn't happen in my dreams, so, no. This is reality. A _wonderful_ reality."

"So the Haunt was really here last night."

"Yes."

"And you really declared you were my boyfriend and held my hand and then spent the night with me here and didn't freak out in the morning."

"Yes." Blaine sounds amused.

Kurt rolls their bodies so he's leaning over Blaine with a perfect view of his eyes, still puffy after all the tears but bright golden in the morning light. "And we're really together?"

"_Yes_." Blaine is beaming. Kurt doesn't remember when he last saw him so happy. "We're together, and I love you, and I want to say it to you every day. I want to show the whole world what an amazing, beautiful boyfriend I have. I want to go on dates with you everywhere in New York. I want to kiss you in the streets and over coffee and at the movies and in bed and I want to sing with you, sleep with you, dance with you, see you in every light, at every time of day, in every mood– God, Kurt. We can finally have it all." His eyes are wide, awed, and Kurt tears up.

"We can."

* * *

**Chapter songs: **_Wires _by The Neighbourhood

_On Your Side_ by Thriving Ivory

The last two chapters will be posted on** Wednesday (Oct 23) and Thursday (Oct 24).**


	19. Chapter 16: Family

**A/N: **_I have a lot of lovely comments from you that I want to answer, and I'm sorry I haven't gotten to it yet. I've just started the process of moving to another apartment and it turns out packing and moving the family after 6 years in the same place is SERIOUSLY time-consuming. Who would have thought? ;) _

_The next two weeks are going to be a special kind of chaotic mess, so let me thank you for all of your amazing reviews here. You are the sweetest, most wonderful readers I could hope for. Your words make me smile and give me the motivation to write even in the busiest, hardest time. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I really appreciate all of you *hugs*_

* * *

**CHAPTER 16: Family**

The knock on the door comes one week of delirious happiness later.

It's been a week filled with dates and kisses and sleepovers, with laughter and singing, and a growing understanding that they no longer have a reason to hide. They've been found and exposed, and the world didn't end. They faced the Harbor's judge and were left free. The knowledge of what they can do now – go to school, maintain actual identities, rekindle old friendships, actually _live_ without a threat over their heads – is making them more giddy and excited with every passing day.

And then the knock comes.

A part of Kurt's mind, still distrustful of this new happy reality, has been waiting for that knock. It's past nine p.m., all three of them are here, and there's no reason for anyone to knock on their door.

And yet.

He can see in Rachel's eyes that she's thinking it too: here they come. Here's where their freedom ends.

There's another knock, louder this time, impatient, and Blaine unwinds his arm from Kurt's waist, moving to rise from the couch. "Do you want me to–"

"No, no." Kurt forces his frozen body to move. "I'll get it."

It feels like he's walking to the gallows, but when he opens the door, it's nothing like any of the vague threats he's been envisioning.

"… Mom?"

* * *

It takes a long while filled with hugs and tears and more hugs both for Kurt and Rachel, and heartfelt apologies on both sides, before they are able to sit down at the kitchen table with hot tea and actually talk. Blaine has been hiding away in Kurt's bedroom, unwilling to intrude on their long awaited reunion, but now Kurt grabs his hand and leads him to the table.

"Mom, this is my boyfriend, Blaine."

His voice doesn't waver even though there's a hint of anxiety in his heart. He couldn't be happier to see his mom, but _this_ is his life now, and he needs her to understand that. He won't hide anymore, and definitely not from her.

But it turns out he shouldn't have worried. She reacts exactly like he always hoped she would before the Harbor changed her.

"Oh! It's lovely to meet you, Blaine. Don't I know you from somewhere? You look familiar."

"Yes, ma'am. I was in school with Kurt and Rachel in Lima. You may have seen me during the competition." Blaine is the very picture of a dapper, charming boy, and Kurt smiles at him fondly.

"Actually," he ventures on impulse, his new honesty spilling over. "Blaine was… kind of my boyfriend back then, too. In fact, if it wasn't for him, we wouldn't be here today at all. It would all have ended on that bridge."

His mom's eyes instantly fill with tears again. She gets up from her chair and pulls Blaine into a tight hug. "Then I can never thank you enough, dear boy. Thank you for saving my kids when I was too blind to do it myself."

Blaine is blushing furiously. "You're very welcome, Mrs. Hummelberry. Though I didn't actually _do _anything."

"Actually, it's just Hummel again." Kurt's mom smiles sadly after she's let him go, her eyes flicking to Rachel. "I'm not with the Harbor anymore. I left and moved to Ohio – to Cleveland, in fact. Alone."

"Is my dad okay?" It explodes out of Rachel at last, her eyes wide and worried.

"Yes, honey. He's fine. We just… didn't see eye to eye anymore." Kurt's mom sighs and reaches for Rachel's hand with an expression so apologetic that Kurt immediately has a bad feeling. "After you were gone… your letter, and the performance you left us to watch, it all hit us really hard. It was grief at its worst, made even more painful by the fact that you were the only children and we had lost loved ones before."

"God, we know–"

"We're sorry, we just didn't see any other way–" Both he and Rachel are crying again, Blaine's warm hand rubbing soothing circles on Kurt's back, but his mom shushes them.

"And we should have never let it happen." She says firmly. "We should have realized how unhappy you were with the decisions we'd made for you. It wasn't like you'd never let us know. I knew all along that you were both independent bright souls. And I'd suspected Kurt might turn out gay since he was three, though I was always too afraid to acknowledge it, I think. But I just let them brainwash me into believing that they knew better what was good for my kids than I did." She shakes her head and takes a sip of tea, visibly pained. "They were wrong. And I paid the highest price for my stupidity."

Kurt reaches for her hand. "But you didn't. We're here, we're fine."

His mom nods with a watery smile and squeezes his hand hard, as if to make sure it's real in hers. She draws a shuddery breath before picking up her story.

"The community supported us, of course. They were there for us day and night, but it only made the grieving harder for me. I knew their intentions were good, but what they were all saying... it just drove me mad. They insisted that it wasn't our fault, that sometimes children make bad decisions and parents can't be blamed for them. How could I accept it when I knew we _were _to blame? It's our job to know our children, to listen to them and care about their happiness, and not impose our own dreams upon them. Of course it was our fault! But Harold's grief didn't go that way."

"You mean… he blamed _us_?" Rachel's voice is small, tremulous. She sounds like that lost little girl Kurt once knew. His mom looks at her apologetically.

"I'm afraid so, honey. He became even stricter in following the rules, and you know he'd always been pretty… radical in this regard. He hammered his pain into devotion to the cause, going so far as applying to join the Council. He started spending all his free time lecturing parents about the necessity of strict parenting or preaching to children about the consequences of disobedience. You can imagine that our outlooks didn't exactly work together." She sighs and Rachel bites her lip, upset.

"So you split?" Kurt asks.

"Not at first. We tried, we really did. We didn't have anything outside of the community any longer, after all. But in the end, I couldn't stand it anymore. It was all so wrong, so barbaric when I knew to look at it from your side. So I left. Six months after they told us you took your own lives, I left Harold and the Harbor. I never looked back. I've been working at a group home ever since, trying to fill the hole in my life, taking care of children that are still there to love."

"So how did you know about us? Did the Haunt – I mean, Mister Harris – pay you a visit, too?" Kurt asks.

She laughs. "_The Haunt_? Oh, I like that, it really does him justice. But no. Harold called me this morning. He said that he owed me this much for all the good years. He gave me the address and told me you were found alive. I caught the first plane I could. God, I still can't believe you're actually here." Her eyes fill with tears again and Blaine grabs a box of tissues and passes it to her.

Kurt knows Rachel well enough to realize that she won't ask this last question herself, too afraid to hear the answer. But it has to be asked.

"Won't he come to see us?"

He can read the answer on his mom's face instantly. "I… I'm sorry. Rachel, honey, I swear I tried to convince him to come here with me, but he said he can't. See, Mister Harris told him everything he'd learned about your life these last two years. About Kurt having a boyfriend and about your… trouble."

"You mean my abortion," Rachel clarifies, clearly beyond caring about decorum now. "He learned that I got pregnant and that I chose not to have the baby. And he decided that I'm unworthy to be his daughter anymore, didn't he?"

"Rachel–" Kurt's mom says gently.

"_Didn't he?_" Rachel shouts.

"I'm afraid so. I'm sure he'll come to his senses eventually, it must have been a shock, and you know he never took kindly to–"

But Rachel is up and off to her bedroom already, the curtain fluttering furiously where she yanked at it. Kurt's mom stands up to follow her, worry etched into her face, but Kurt touches her hand.

"Don't. She won't let you comfort her. She needs time to get it all out by herself first. I'll be here for her later, when she's ready."

She nods, still worried. "God, I'm so sorry," she whispers. "I knew Harold was always overenthusiastic about every stupid rule, but I was sure when it came to Rachel, it was different. He loved her like crazy. And now the poor girl lost not only her mother, but her father too. I wish I could help her somehow. She's like a daughter to me, but I know it's not the same."

An idea strikes Kurt suddenly. "Actually, I think you can help. Do you happen to know the maiden name of Rachel's mom? I'm sure she's out there somewhere, and in case Rach wanted to seek her out… We tried looking her up on the internet several years ago, but Shelby Berry didn't give us any results."

"Oh, that's because she was never married." His mom says, shaking her head. "They were engaged, and planning the wedding for when Rachel was a little older, but she left before that. She's an actress now, as far as I know. Shelby Corcoran, I think."

They talk for a few more hours, catching up, sharing their stories, but when it gets late, Kurt's mom reluctantly stands up to leave. Thank god she's staying in New York for a few days because Kurt honestly doesn't think he could let her go otherwise. She has a hotel room booked, and since it's not far from the dorms, Blaine decides to go with her to make sure she gets there safely – a sentiment that fills Kurt's heart with such a wave of affection he could burst. They will all meet for lunch tomorrow, and Kurt is going to use up every favor he has with his coworkers to get at least one day free, maybe even two, and enjoy having a mom he can talk to and spend time with the way he remembers fondly when he was a child.

As Kurt bids them goodnight, kissing Blaine sweetly right in front of his mom, he still can't believe how lucky he is to have her back in his life.

But he can't help but hurt for Rachel, too.

* * *

It takes weeks to pull Rachel out of the gloomy numbness and convince her to look up her mom. Yes, Kurt could have done it himself – his fingers itched to enter her name in the search engine more than once when he heard Rachel cry herself to sleep yet again, or saw the sadness that seemed to be her constant companion now. But he wants her to do it herself when she is ready.

"But she doesn't want anything to do with me!" Rachel argues every time he tries. "She never answered any of my letters, not one. She never contacted us at all after she left. She doesn't _care. _How can I just go looking for her? And what if I find her somewhere? Should I just send her a Facebook invitation with _relationship: daughter_?"

But Kurt is patient in his gentle insistence, and finally, one afternoon in May, Rachel tries. "Just to see if she is out there," she declares.

What they find is enough to shake Rachel out of her melancholy for good.

Shelby Corcoran turns out to be an acclaimed off-Broadway actress with several praised roles to her name. She looks like an older version of Rachel, with the same long dark hair, petite frame and strong features. Once she looks, Rachel can't stop staring.

There's a schedule of Ms. Corcoran's shows easily available online, and it only takes two days before Rachel can't stand it any longer and goes to the theater at the end of a matinee. She says she just wants to look at her mom as a normal person, out of the costume and the stage make up, see her real face, her body language, the way she talks to fans.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Kurt asks, but she shakes her head.

"No. I need to do it by myself. I'm only looking from a distance anyway."

* * *

When she comes home five hours later, it's clear she hasn't just been looking from a distance.

She's _beaming_, so high on excitement it can barely be contained by her tiny body, and Kurt puts away the book he's been reading, raises an eyebrow and asks the obvious.

"You talked to her, didn't you?"

"_Yes_!" Rachel squeals, literally dancing around the living room. "Kurt, she _recognized me_. She saw me standing to the side and just… froze, as if she saw a ghost. And then she left the fans, the autographs, and came over and said my name in this very quiet voice, _Rachel_? It was like magic. She hasn't seen me in _nineteen years_ and she recognized me."

Kurt cocks his head. "Really? She never even Googled you? There are a few pictures and videos from performances online."

Rachel rolls her eyes and flops on the armchair. "Spoilsport. Yes, she told me later that she did. But in that moment, it felt like a fairytale."

"It must have been wonderful." He smiles, well aware of her soft spot for fairytale moments. "So, did you two talk? Did she tell you why she never contacted you?"

"She did." Rachel's face grows solemn. "I mean, she did tell me, and she _did_ contact me. Well, tried to." There's anger flashing in her eyes now and she pulls her knees to her chest, curls in on herself. "We talked in her dressing room for _hours_. She told me that she'd sent me dozens of letters. In those first years, she used to call, or send me gifts. I remember the things she said she'd sent me from my childhood, I had gotten them. I'd just never known they were from her. My dad had never given me any of her letters, even the one she'd left for me when she disappeared."

"Oh Rachel…" Kurt's dislike of her father, a thing that has always been there to some degree, flares rapidly.

"And when I was five, he told her not to write to me anymore, said it was upsetting me when she did. Like I even knew. He said she'd walked out on our family, and she's not allowed to intrude on our lives anymore. So she stopped. But she never stopped thinking of me, Kurt, or writing me letters, she just never sent them anymore. And she wanted to seek me out when I was eighteen, only…" Fat tears are flowing down Rachel's cheeks now.

"Only she learned that you were dead." Kurt finishes for her. "Oh god. Did your father tell her?"

She lets out an angry hiss. "He sent an email to her theater address, telling her that I killed myself. On the day of my birthday, Kurt! No reason why, no explanation of the situation, not a word of the Harbor. She didn't even know I'd grown up there, just that I'd had a stepmother. The way he told her suggested that I'd turned out bad, _crooked_, because I'd grown up without a mother."

"That bastard–" Kurt can't stop himself. "I'm sorry, Rachel, but your father is a fucking… I don't even have words."

"I know," she whispers. They sit in silence, because what can you say when the whole reality of someone's life changes like that? Kurt can't even imagine it, every childhood memory tainted with a knowledge like this. Eventually though, he asks carefully.

"So where do you stand with your mom now? Does she want you back in her life on a more regular basis now that you two live in the same city? Or–"

That gets Rachel beaming again.

"Oh, yes! She wanted me to come home with her. We have so much more to talk about! But she had another performance this evening, so we decided to spend the whole day together tomorrow instead. She very much wants to be a mom to me and it feels a little weird when I only met her today. She's basically a _stranger_, but… I want to try. I've never really had a mom." She catches herself. "Not that I don't love yours, but–"

"I know," Kurt says. No one can replace his dad in his heart either. He understands.

* * *

xXxXx

_Blaine's parents look cramped, trying to fit together in the tiny frame of the webcam. Usually he gets one or the other when he Skypes with them, but today he asked them both to be there. _

"_So what's up, son?" His dad asks, always the one to get right to the chase. "Everything all right at school?"_

_Blaine smiles. "Yes, everything's fine. I just wanted to tell you that – well, there's someone special in my life. I have a boyfriend."_

_He carefully studies the grainy picture for any look of surprise or disappointment, but he finds none. There are just smiles, delighted, happy for him._

"_That's wonderful, baby," his mom exclaims. "Tell us more about him."_

"_His name is Kurt. We've been together for over a month now and I… I love him," he finishes softly, still awed with the force of that feeling._

_His father frowns. "Kurt. Wasn't that the name of the boy in your junior year? The one who died?"_

"_Yes. Actually – turned out he didn't really die."_

_He tells them the highlights of their story, feeling like he finally can. Kurt and Rachel are no longer hiding the truth from anyone who has a reason to know. And Blaine wants his parents to know and love _Kurt._ Because he's hoping to have this boy by his side for a very long time._

_His mom starts crying halfway through his story. Even his dad is clearing his throat the way he does when he's moved and tries not to show it. Blaine finishes talking and looks at them earnestly._

"_I wanted you to know because Kurt is very special to me. He was back in high school, and he is now, and I hope he's going to be one of the most important people in my life for many, many years. And your thoughts and opinions matter to me, so–"_

"_Bring the boy home with you when you come next month," his dad says. Next to him, his mom is nodding._

"_Yes, bring him over to stay with us. Sounds like he could use a vacation and some coddling, the poor thing. Tell him it's doctor's orders if necessary."_

_Blaine ends the connection with happy tears in his eyes._

xXxXx

* * *

**Chapter songs: **_Guilty _by Marina and The Diamonds

_For Once in My Life_ by Stevie Wonder, cover by the Glee cast

* * *

The **epilogue** will be posted **tomorrow (Thursday, Oct 24)**.


	20. Epilogue

**A/N:** _This is it: just this tiny epilogue left and the _Pretend _verse is completed. Over a year, almost 90 000 words, loads of amazing graphic content, plenty of great music, countless hours of discussions, brainstorming, note-taking, writing and editing. This has been a wonderful adventure and I'd like to thank everyone who has been a part of it, whether by helping us create and perfect these stories or by reading them and enjoying the ride with us. I will miss this world we built, but I think we're leaving the trio in a good place, ready to take on the world and live their lives to the fullest. Because they finally can._

_See you in another story! :)_

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

Kurt has forgotten what a wonderful thing vacation could be, but this July, he is getting an intense reminder. With Rachel gone to the Canaries with her mom and her little step-sister Beth, Kurt packs his sewing machine, hands in his resignation at Starbucks and leaves New York.

Not forever, of course. He spends two weeks with his mom in Cleveland, basking in the wonderful feeling of _having_ a mom again – one who understands him and loves him unconditionally, without outside rules intruding on their little family.

And then he goes to Lima, where Blaine's parents greet him with open arms.

He is welcomed by the old New Directions people who are still around with enthusiasm he'd never expected. In the three weeks Kurt spends there, there are pool parties and silly karaoke nights, coffee dates and ice cream and dancing and all the wonderful summer things that carefree teenagers get to do on vacation, even when they are supposed to be adults already.

And every day, there's waking up in Blaine's arms in his large, comfortable bed – sometimes still naked and sticky after late night activities; sometimes kissed awake; always so in love it feels like he could burst. Blaine's eyes, wide, happy and filled with such awe every time he wakes up and finds Kurt next to him, are quickly becoming Kurt's favorite thing in the world.

And every night, there are goodnight kisses and _I love you's_ and the safety of falling asleep together. And there's sex, slow and exploratory, rediscovered bit by bit, like a fascinating mystery room, filled with treasures.

This is Kurt's time to savor everything, to really, truly experience the love he has and everything that comes with it, not as stolen moments to which he has no right, but as what his life is now. This is his reality. He's allowed to love this man and let himself be loved in return, for all he is. He can still cherish every moment like it's the last, but without the soul-crushing knowledge that there's no future for them. Because there is a future. However they shape it, whatever comes next, they are together. Openly, happily. Just Kurt and Blaine.

* * *

On the day of their three month anniversary, Blaine enlists the Glee guys to help him serenade Kurt with a song he'd written himself. There are flowers – gorgeous red and yellow roses – and a romantic picnic. When they return to the house that night, it turns out Blaine's parents have gone to visit their family in Columbus and won't be home until late the next day.

Blaine doesn't look surprised.

With the whole house to themselves, they don't have to be quiet or discreet. They take their time with undressing and kissing and touching, leaving a trail of clothes all the way to the bedroom, and then they make love, taking that last, most intimate step for the first time since their first – and _only _– time over two years ago.

When Blaine's parents come back 24 hours later, Kurt is certain he'd pulled at least a few muscles, his throat is a bit raw from being too vocal for his own good and they are both sore and exhilarated after what can only be called a sex marathon. And really, he could get used to this – sharing an apartment with Blaine, just the two of them, sleeping naked and getting breakfast in bed. Among other things.

One day, they will.

* * *

And then there's the day when Kurt steps through the McKinley high school door one last time to get his school records. It's August already.

Soon, he and Blaine will be returning to New York, to start another year, filled with new challenges and new rewards.

Soon, Kurt will be beginning his belated senior year in one of the New York City's high schools, along with Rachel.

Soon, Blaine will be moving into their Bushwick loft and there will be redecorating and shopping (and definitely a bigger bed).

Soon.

But for now, Kurt is happy to stay here in Lima for a little bit longer, surrounded by friends and kindness and love, finally really, truly free.

THE END

* * *

**Chapter song:** _How Long Will I Love You _by Ellie Goulding


End file.
